The Select in 1983-1984
by Kiss Queen Love Kiss
Summary: Set in Calgary, 1983, the Select lead normal lives. Daria lives with her siblings and dad, Aly with her brother and parents, Marco with his family, Cass with his sister and aunt and uncle, Jack with his parents, and Randall with his grandparents. Please review. Past tense for Randall, Cass, and Aly, present for Daria, Marco and Jack. A bit slow at first. Foreshadowing important.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a little word of advice: If you're going to read this, it would help to know stuff about the 80s, so I recommend a website to help you get started. (This will really help.) It's called i80s, though you can use other websites or Google.**

 **You can start wherever you want, whether it be the music or the slang, or the fashion, etc. Help yourself.**

* * *

 **Daria**

 _Saturday, September 3rd, 12:35 p.m. 1983_

"Let's book," Aly says, as we run away from her house. She pats her big brown/pink hair again to make sure the mesh hair tie is there.

"Yeah." I smooth my gasoline pants. They're a bit wrinkled. Then again, I've had them for two years. I always wore them with a laced crop top or an izod shirt or what I was wearing them with now: a polo shirt. A pink one. "Don't wanna run into those barf bags."

" _I know!_ " Aly rolls her eyes. She always does when someone brings one of them up: Cass Williams, Marco Ramsay, Jack McKinley, or Randall Cromarty. "They're the worst."

I just nod. "Let's go to the river."

"Bow River?" Aly raises an eyebrow.

"You know," I say. "The park."

"Oh yeah." Aly looks over her shoulder. "We should head to the bridge after that. Or the pool."

"How do we go to a pool without bathing suits?" I ask. Knowing Aly, she would pretty much smack her head.

Which she did.

"Crap. I'll-" Aly starts to turn, but I grab her arm.

"We'll go tomorrow," I suggest. "At least then the second last day of summer won't be horrible."

Aly stops and looks at me. "Good point," she says. We start walking down the street as Queen plays from one of the windows. Can't remember which song it is.

"You're lucky your birthday is in January," I say. Aly rolls her eyes again. "Barf me out."

She obviously doesn't want to be reminded that her birthday is in January while mine is the day before school starts. September 5th. Then the next day school starts.

Bogus, I know.

* * *

Aly and I are standing on the bridge nearby the park. "I still wish we could go to the pool," Aly says, as she climbs over the railings that are supposed to keep people from falling into the river. No one's around, so we're not in deep shit. For now.

"Can't do much about it," I say leaning on the railings. Aly sits in front of them, her skirt spread out. She really doesn't have room to tuck the skirt under. I climb over the railings and sit next to her. "I'd like to go, too."

We sit there quietly for a couple of minutes. "I can't wait till the next episode of the _Dukes_ comes out," Aly says, sighing.

"Same," I mutter.

"Got it!" somebody says. Aly puts her hands on her head. Her black mesh tie is gone.

"Oh no," Aly mutters. "It's _him._ " She climbs over the railings while I turn around.

Yeah. It's him. Who wouldn't know the butt ugly skater haircut and the earing on his left ear. Of course, he had to wear his AC/DC sleeveless shirt. Yeah, that makes him recognizable enough.

Jack McKinley has come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Aly**

 _Saturday, September 3rd, 1:06 p.m. 1983_

"Chill, Aly." Jack threw his hands up as I took my mesh hair tie back. "You look gnarly today. So does Dars."

"Shut up, dipstick," I snapped as I tied my mesh around my hair.

Jack folded his arms. "I was just being nice."

"Eat my shorts," Daria retorted as she climbed over the railings.

"Eat shit and die," Jack said, pointing to her.

"You-" I pushed Jack back and he fell over.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his head. "You know Bhegad's here. You'll be lucky if he doesn't find out what you guys were doing." Jack stood up and rubbed his acid washed jeans and straightened his shirt.

Daria and I looked at each other. Bhegad? The school principal?

"You're just lying to us," I said, staring crossly as I folded my arms. He better be lying, I thought. We did not need to get into trouble with him again. The last time we ran into him, it was the last day of school, and it was lunch, and Marco thought it would be funny to dump a water bottle on our heads. I got my revenge by throwing a donut in his face. Long story short, we ended up having a food fight.

It was fun, but it got us into a lot of trouble with Bhegad, who yelled at us for it. We had to clean up the whole cafeteria after that, but it was worth it.

"That's not my problem," Jack called over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Let's book," Daria said nervously. She began rubbing her arms, which she always does when she's nervous. "Otherwise we might be in serious trouble."

One thing Daria never tells you...she can tell when people are lying.

"Whatever you say," I said, and I ran to the stone wall between the bridges. I began climbing up, and Daria followed after. We went up the stone wall, which was pretty easy, and walked to the pedestrian bridge. People around us were riding their bikes or taking their kids out on strollers. Nearby, Daria turned her head, and I looked too. Apparently, Daria's older brother Nico was with his galpal Anna. They were schmoozing. It was made even worse with the fact that through his ripped jeans, you could see he clearly wasn't wearing underwear.

"Gag me with a spoon," Daria hissed as she looked away. I felt a little weird staring at Nico's jeans too.

We walked as quickly as we could to the end of the bridge. Over there, I thought about food. I could use a meal.

"Wanna go to Tim Horton's?" I said, brushing a lock of hair back. Daria smiled.

"Donuts and coffee," she said, as she started running. I followed after. We were going to the school. That was nearby Tim Horton's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jack**

 _Sunday, September 4th, 11:39 a.m. 1983_

I think about yesterday again. How I pulled Aly's mesh hair tie and held it. I got her attention, which was what I'd been trying to do ever since I realized I want to be her friend. I really don't know how I'm supposed to ask her. Can you imagine me going up to her and saying, "Do you want to be my friend?"

Can you?

Of course not. That's because I'm Jack McKinley, one of the biggest dweebs in the school, just like Aly. That's what Cass always says about me and Aly. In his words, we're a "doog riap fo sdren."

One thing: Cass likes to speak Backwardish. In his language, "doog riap fo sdren" stands for "good pair of nerds." I've known him for about seven years, so I can translate Backwardish...even if it's the dumbest language invented.

Don't tell Cass I said that.

* * *

 **Randall**

 _Sunday, September 4th, 1:39 p.m. 1983_

"Dude, Rands, just go in." Marco pushed me in as he spoke. He was always very athletic and hyper. Once, he climbed up one of those steel bars that are on those bridges that are there to make it look good. I'm serious about that. He didn't get caught by his dad, who's a cop. I still think he's lucky that didn't happen.

I submerged with my chest out of the water. "Was that really necessary?"

"Well you weren't going in," Marco said as he jumped in, splashing everyone around us. Some of the people shout us dirty looks, but Marco didn't care. He lay on his back and put his hands behind his head, his face the only thing above the water as he floated. He breathed in happily and smiled. "This is awesome." He pumped his fist up.

I began paddling toward the end of the pool. I always liked to swim towards the end and then do my back paddles as I swam back to the start. Once I got to the end of the pool, I turned and began swimming back to the other end. As I swam, I felt someone grab my ankle. I turned around and saw Sue Morales, the girl who has this crush on me. She likes me so much that she's starting to act creepy. Just two days ago, she asked me out on a date for the umpteenth time, even though I rejected her for the umpteenth time. That's just the tip of the ice berg.


	4. Chapter 4

**Marco**

 _Monday, September 5th, 1983. 11:39 a.m._

It's almost a half hour to midnight, and I just crept out of my bedroom window, which was on the first floor. I'm running out to the bridge not far away from the pool. I've done it lots of times, and I'm doing it again.

This is something I always do on the day before my birthday, the first night of summer, and the last night of summer. I always go there to climb up those bad steel blocks that go up diagonally on the pedestrian bridge. I don't know why I do it. I guess it's just for fun. It's kind of awesome in a way that shows how bad to the bone I am.

First, I have to make my way through a lot of college students, chocoholics, and bimbettes before I get there. The warm wind blows in my face as I jog up to the pedestrian bridge. As soon as I reach up to the edge of the pedestrian bridge, I slow to a walk and take some breaths. Normally, I'm stressed over time I'm not worried about not getting home in time because the bridge is only ten minutes away from my parent's bungalow.

I walk up to a steel bar and begin scaling up. It's really not that hard because I've done it before. It's probably also because I'm not a couch potato like my sister Kandyce. She's a bit of a dipstick and she haves a cow a lot. Dad kicked her out so many times during summer I can't even count. It doesn't help that she's also really grody and ill. She's what Daria calls a joanie.

Speaking of Daria, when I get to the top, I sit down and start thinking about the last time I saw her. She and that dweeb-o-rama Aly were having ice cream, and I heard her sing some Michael Jackson song. I went up to her and said, "You have a really mint voice. You're like way too phat too hang out with that scumbag Aly."

I don't get why she thought I was some bogus. She even called me an airhead to my face. Guess she can't accept dudes who tell it like it is.

Keeping this in mind, I look up to the sky and promise myself that I will figure out how to make her chill out with me at one point or another during the school year. Once I speak my promise, I climb down and start walking back home. As I'm reaching the end of the bridge, a chocoholic comes up to me and starts saying something. I really can't tell what he's saying because his words are so slurred. I stumble pass him and run back home as quick as possible. When I get there, I hoist myself up and get into my bedroom. I throw off my rugby shirt and my corduroy pants and put on my pajamas. Next, I climb into bed and fall asleep once my head hits the pillow.

* * *

 **Cass**

 _Tuesday, September 6th, 1983. 4:00 pm_

"How was school?" Aunt Marie asked as I put my bag on the couch.

"Dab ton," I said, sitting down next to it. I ran my fingers through my hair and my head tilted to the side.

"Good grief, Cassius. You should be past that 'Backwardish' thing by now." I could practically feel Aunt Marie's disapproval radiating. She was always like, "Cassius, don't go and eat half a dozen a donuts at once. Cassius, quit the TV and do your homework. Cassius, you should be talking to us at dinner. Cassius, this. Cassius, that, yadda yadda yadda." She was like that with Eloise as well. Same with Uncle Bernie. I thought they were really overbearing, but looking back now, it might have been because they weren't actually my aunt and uncle, but my mom's aunt and uncle. Back in 1983, they were both seventy-two. That was around thirty-three years ago.

I sighed. Eloise was upstairs with her friend Minnie, and they were playing Dungeon Dice. I don't really remember the rules, but I do know I played that game when I was nine years old, which was the same age Eloise was now. She had her ninth birthday back in May. I had my thirteenth birthday in July, and my rad old friend Jack had his two weeks ago. I know it's hard to believe it, but back then, he was always shitting bricks around new people. Pretty nervous guy. Not very confident.

He's still is like that sometimes. Then again, who can blame him? If you grew up with the parents he had...

* * *

 _6:00 pm_

"Do I have to eat every bite?" Eloise moaned. She was like this every time we had a meal involving meat.

"Yes, missy," Uncle Bernie said, always being strict. We had mashed potatoes and chicken for dinner today, as we always did on Tuesdays. Eloise hated eating chicken because she felt like a cannibal, which was probably an omen. She became a vegetarian once she moved out of the house nine years later. "Otherwise when you go to school, you come back home when it's over for the rest of the year."

He was not kidding about that. I warned Eloise that I learned the hard way when I was five years old. I'd just been taken out of my parents' custody and put into Aunt Marie and Uncle Bernie's. First dinner there, I threw my broccoli halfway across the room. Got a pretty good spanking, I did. Never threw broccoli across the room again. I always ate it, even if I didn't want to.

Eloise rolled her eyes and began to take a bite out of her chicken. I was close to being done my food, which I always hated, because that meant when I was done, it would be straight to homework. Aunt Marie and Uncle Bernie always nagged me to do well in school, even though most folks would never think I was a dweeb like Jack and Aly back then. (Dweeb is 80s slang for nerd.) I think that was because Mom got pregnant with me in her final year of high school, and she had the grades to make it into university. If she hadn't gotten pregnant with me, she would have been the first in our family to go. Never happened, it did. Wanted me to go in order to make up for it.

That's part of the story of how _I_ became the first member in my family to go to university. Eloise went as well. We both got degrees in science.

There was always something I found funny about people who tell stories about when they were growing up is that they don't tell the bad parts of their childhood. I don't think they like to remember it. I see that with these kids who wish _they_ grew up in 1983 because they just liked the music.

Truth is, growing up in 1983 wasn't all bad, but it wasn't all good either. I think it wouldn't be so different from today except we actually talked to each other back then, and most of us lived in bungalows, which meant no second floor. That also meant we would be living in houses that ran more on gas than electricity.

Anyhow, as soon as I finished my food, I was sent straight to my bedroom, where I spent two and a half hours hours doing homework and checking everything to make sure it was correct. As soon as I saw the clock read 8:30, I put all my stuff away and went to the bathroom. 8:30 meant that it was time to get ready for bed, and 9:00 was bedtime ASAP, otherwise you'd be in deep shit with Aunt Marie. Maybe Uncle Bernie as well if he didn't have back pain that night. I began brushing my teeth and finished with rinsing my mouth and flossing, as I always did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Daria**

 _Wednesday, September 21st, 1983. 11:15 am_

"Bonjour, les enfants," Torquin, the French teacher says as he writes _Animaux_ below _Monsieur Quinones (Torquin)_ on the board. This guy has red hair and he is probably about 300 pounds. I'm not even going to guess how tall he is. He's barefoot, and his beard looks a bit hellacious. Heck, his entire body is hellacious.

"What does this mean?" He points the chalk to _Animaux_ and looks at all of us in the eye. Morris Wilson raises his hand.

"Animals?" he says, sounding like he hopes he's right. That's the first time I've seen him raise his hand.

"Oui," Torquin says as he turns. "Get out your notebooks and write done what's written on the board. The first thing you write will be _Animaux,_ or animals in French."

Everyone pulls out their notebooks and pencils and erasers as they start talking. I scribble down _Animaux_ and every French word I know that means some sort of animal in English. It's only two words and they're _chat,_ which is cat, and _chien,_ which is dog.

"Madamoiselle Jones," Torquin's voice booms through out the room. Everyone goes silent. I look up. Torquin is pointing the chalk to _chien._ I already know what he's going to say.

"Come to the board and write down what this word is." He looks at me impatiently as I get out of my chair and slowly walk up to the front. I hate being called on. It's the worst. I thought being forced by Dad to take French class was bogus since I _already_ know Arabic and English and just a bit of Latin, but being called on in French class in even worse.

"What does this mean?" He hands me the chalk. I stare at the word for a couple of seconds, then I write _Dog_ next to it as quickly as I can. I rush back to my table just after I give Torquin the chalk.

"Bon," Torquin says, nodding. He doesn't say anything for a few moments. Neither does the whole class. Morris Wilson leans over to me and whispers something in my ear:

"I think he wants you to say what that means."

I stare at Torquin wide-eyed. What am I going to do what am I going to do what am I-

I stand up from my seat and take a wild guess. "Who's next?" I pray that I am right.

Torquin shakes his head. "Means good," he snaps. "Back in your chair, Madamoiselle Jones."

The rest of the day passes by very quickly. By the time the bell rings, I already have my backpack on and I'm waiting for Aly to come so then we can walk home together. Aly and I live across from each other, and we've been friends since forever. We've done this for a very long time. I'm just leaning against the wall, standing nearby Aly's homeroom when the French teacher comes.

"Ah, Madamoiselle Jones. I believe you owe me a favour." Torquin looks at me angrily. I suddenly remember. I'm supposed to clap erasers today.

"I-I forgot," I say quickly. "I'll do it right now."

Torquin nods. "Good."

* * *

 _3:00 pm_

My backpack's on my desk where Aly is sitting. Another cloud of dust comes from the erasers as I pound them together.

"Clapping erasers is the cheesiest thing ever," I complain as the dust flies into my eyes.

"Fuck'n A," Aly says. I can hear her leaning back with my chair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say, as I take the last two erasers. I clap them and more dust flies out.

"That's how my brother says he doesn't like something."

I'm not surprised. My older brother Nico and Josh, who's Aly's older brother, are going to college. Nico's in Edmonton. It's his first year. He left the day before school. It's always like him to do certain things at the last minute. Josh is in Vancouver. For him, it's the second year.

"I know how you feel about Nico, Daria." Aly shuffles in the chair behind me. "I feel that way about Josh."

"I didn't realize I'd miss him," I say, as I finish clapping. "He and I fought with each other a lot. I never fought as much with Arwa and Frada."

Arwa's my older sister. She's in Grade 11, while Frada's younger and is eight, so she's in Grade 3. We get along really well.

I continue on. "I thought that when he was gone, I would have a big party to myself but now..."

I can't finish the sentence. I still can't say that I miss fighting with him now.

"You don't miss your older brother till he's left for college," Aly says. She's standing beside me now with our backpacks. She hands mine to me. I take it. "Let's book," I say, walking out with her beside me.

* * *

 _6:30 pm_

As usual, Dad's not home either because of his job as a mechanic or his girlfriend Nirvana, so I turn on the radio. The first notes of a song starts playing, and I think it's called "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," which I haven't heard yet. Whenever Dad's late at work or is on a date, me, Arwa, and Frada, eat pizza and we do karaoke during dinner. It's a lot of fun. I'm always the one who starts it.

I grab a wooden spoon and climb onto the table. As soon as the girl (Cyndi Lauper? Is that her name?) starts singing with her mint voice, I sing along. I used to lip-sync but nowadays I actually sing. Frada sits on the chair and watches me sing. I do it at the top of my lungs, as always. When I'm done, Arwa sets the pizza on the table and Frada takes her turn. When I'm done singing, it's always her who goes next.

The next song on the radio is "Let's Dance" by David Bowie. I've heard it a couple of times. I take a slice of pizza as Frada sings the lyrics to the song wrong and off-key, like she usually does. We've already done our homework and had it reviewed by someone older (except Arwa since Nico's at college), so we don't have to worry about forgetting.

When Frada's turn is up, Arwa sets her pizza down and takes the spoon. The next song is called "Whammy Kiss," and Arwa sings the song perfectly. She always does.

After dinner, we play Trouble and Sorry! for about two and a half hours. As soon as we hear the door open, we know that Dad's home from work. Arwa and Frada talk with Dad while I head upstairs to figure out what to write to Nico. Dad and I don't get along so well, but Nirvana and I do. I always like it when she comes home.

When it's ten o'clock, it's time to go to bed, and Dad kisses each of us good night. Even me. After that, there better be no sound or light or you're grounded for a week.

This is your typical night at the Jones house. We always save pizza for Dad once he gets home, which is always around nine o'clock if it's work, and half an hour later if it's a date with Nirvana.


	6. Chapter 6

**Aly**

 _Saturday, September 30th, 1983. 7:00 am_

As soon as I finished my breakfast, I got up from my chair to go to my bedroom and change. I was thinking of going out with Daria to some bad place.

"Where are you going?" Mom asked, as she looked at me. Her eyebrow was raised, and she looked like she wanted me to stay here.

"I'm gonna change. I'm going to Daria's." I tucked in my chair and turned to leave when Dad spoke up:

"You stay here. We hardly ever see you."

I turned around and looked at Dad. "I see you guys a lot."

"Aly," Mom scolded. She always hated being spoken back to. "Stay at home for once. Ever since Josh went to university, we've been feeling lonely."

"Mom," I whined. "I just wanna have fun."

Dad's eyes flared, and he stood up. Whenever he did that, it was a sign that I was in trouble.

"Young lady, you do not speak to your mother like that. Show her some respect."

"You're so overprotective!" I retorted angrily. "I just wanna do my thing."

It's not a good idea to talk like that to your parents. They would not appreciate that.

"You're grounded," Dad said through gritted teeth, "for two weeks. Everyday, you go to school and you come back home. Understood?"

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms. I wanted to argue more with Dad, but that would just increase the amount of time I was grounded for. "Fine," I muttered. I was not happy.

Dad pointed to the doorway. Across that, my bedroom was there. I used to share it with Josh before he left for university. It would have been nice to have had him in there.

I turned around and walked sheepishly to my bedroom. Once I was in there, I slammed the door and sat against it. I could hear Mom and Dad talking, but I didn't know what they were saying. They were probably talking about me and Josh.

"It's not fair," I muttered under my breath. "It's not fair."


	7. Chapter 7

**Jack**

 _Saturday, October 1st, 1983. 9:00 am_

I look at the photos of every person who's been named Canadian of the Year. The first person to be named Canadian of the Year was Igor Souzenko, who was an embassy clerk. He showed people the Soviets were spying. He was Canadian of the Year for 1946. For some reason I've always had this fascination with people who were named Canadian of the Year. I think that was because three years ago, there was this guy named Terry Fox who decided to run across Canada to raise money for cancer. He had one of his legs amputated because of cancer. I thought he was going to run all the way to Calgary but he stopped in Thunder Bay because he his cancer came back. He's dead now.

Here's the thing: three years ago, I learned about him being named Canadian of the Year. I wondered what it meant to be named that, so I asked Mom. She said that being named Canadian of the Year meant you did great things for Canada or you were the new prime minister. I wonder who's gonna be named Canadian of the Year this time. Last year was Wayne Gretzky. He's a hockey player.

I sigh and decide to head outside. It makes life so much easier because I can forget that Mom and Dad fight all the time. It's been happening for three months now. I'm scared they might divorce. What if they do? What will happen to me? Who will I stay with?

* * *

 _12:34 pm_

"Yo, Marco!" I shout from down below. The wind blows into my hair as I look up at Marco, sitting on one of the support beams on the pedestrian bridge. Marco's a bad guy. He's awesome.

"McKinley!" Marco slides down on the support beam he's on. I don't know how he can climb up that thing. I tried once, but I slipped and nearly broke my ankle. That was back in May. Since then, I swore I would never do it again.

"What's up dude?" I ask once he gets down. He brushes his wrinkled acid washed jeans.

"Nothing much." Marco brushes his hair back. It reminds me of Ziggy Stardust, except Marco's is blonde.

"My parents are fighting a lot," I say. I look around for Cass and Randall. Randall and I don't really like each other, but he's Marco's BFF, so he's gonna be around. Cass and I are cool as always. Knowing him, he's probably late again because of his old aunt and uncle. "I think they might divorce," I continue.

"Took you a while to say it, McKinley." Marco leans against the bar.

"What will happen if they do?" I ask. It takes all my courage not to stutter.

Marco looks around. "I don't know. My parents aren't divorced." He sighs. "Let's talk about something else."


	8. Chapter 8

**Randall**

 _October 1st, 12:30 pm_

"Grandma!" I shouted. "I'm late!"

"For what?" Grandma Cromarty asked, looking at me. For someone who was eighty-one years old, she was a very lively person. Unlike most eighty year olds you met, she wore blue lipstick and green or blue hair dye, along with hair mousse and banana clips. I remember seeing her wear slogan t-shirts and cardigan sweaters, along with Peter Pan boots, gasoline jeans, scrunch socks, corduroy pants, and acid washed jeans. You could also say the same things about Grandpa Cromarty. He wore some of the same things Grandma Cromarty wore. They were awesome. I have great memories of them. Today she had her green hair tied back in a white mesh tie and was wearing storm trooper pajamas, even though she was more into _Star Trek._

"I have a meeting with Marco," I said, throwing on a jean jacket and Adidas shoes. I straightened my jacket and tied my laces.

"BFFs?" Grandma Cromarty asked, smiling teasingly. Boy, did she love to tease me.

"Whatever," I said. "I'll be back for lunch."

I opened the door, got out, and shut the door as Grandma Cromarty shouted something. I don't remember what she said. The details fade over time. I think it was to tell me to get back home on time.

* * *

 _12:36_

"Let's talk about something else," Marco said as I ran up to meet him and Jack on the bridge. Cass was late, as expected.

"What were you talking 'bout?" I asked, examining Jack. His hair was flipped to the right, and he was wearing an Ozzy shirt with track pants that looked a little too big for him. I think they were his mom's.

"Jack's parents might divorce," Marco said before Jack could speak. He glared at Marco, then looked at me. I think he felt ambivalent about me. I know for sure I felt that way about him.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "What makes you think that?" I asked, looking at Jack.

"They're fighting a lot," Jack said, sighing heavily. I never really knew what it was like to have parents; mine died when I was two. Horrible, horrible car accident. I've always wondered what it would be like to know them. I still do sometimes. "I hear them scream at each other every night. Last night," Jack paused and looked around. It was a moment before he spoke. "My mom said she hated my dad. It's still so hard to believe. When I woke up this morning, I thought it was all a dream. I tried to push it out of my head."

"Okay," Marco said slowly. He looked at me. I remember he was wearing a pair of yellow corduroy pants. "What about you, Rando?"

Yes. He called me Rando for short whenever he felt like it. I think he did it because he thought it made me sound bad, which is 80s slang for awesome, not criminal or horrible. At least I think.

"My grandparents are not normal," I said. I remember back then, I saw other people's grandparents and realized mine acted like they were young compared to them. It sort of happened slowly. When I fully realized it, I tried to avoid being around them as much as possible. I didn't want to hurt them, but I didn't want them to embarrass me. You better believe me when I say that even if your grandparents are...different than others, still be nice and appreciate the fact that you have them. I'm always going to regret the fact I never appreciated mine when they were alive. In fact, if I could relive my life, I would be spending more time with them.

"I think yours are looc," Cass said, jogging up. He was wearing blue jeans. I don't remember what else he was wearing. "My aunt and uncle are the most bossy people ever. Your grandparents are much better people." He looked at Marco and Jack. "What did I miss?"

"Not much," Marco said. "Jack thinks his parents are going to ke-arb-"

He shook his head. Cass liked to speak Backwardish back then. He would speak words backwards. I've lost track of how many time _I_ alone tried to speak Backwardish. I never could.

The rest of our conversation passed quickly. I thought around half an hour had passed, but when I came home, I found out what time it actually was.

It was 2:30 in the afternoon. That meant I was late for lunch.

* * *

Grandpa Cromarty was sitting in the dining room when I came back, reading a newspaper with his feet up. His face may have been covered, but anyone could tell it was him through his red Mohawk. I don't remember what he said, but it was probably him laying down the law. When I was your age, being late at my house meant extra chores. Not fun. And if I was really late, which happened rarely, I'd get grounded. That's how I learned to be punctual.

* * *

 **My own grandma is a bit like Grandma Cromarty. She doesn't go so far to dress up in the clothes we teens like to wear, but she sure is pretty cool.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Daria**

 _Sunday, October 9th, 1983. 11:34 am_

"Arwa," I say, moving all of Arwa's clutter away so I can have room for my arms, "When will Nico come?" My brother Nico is coming to visit us today. He'll be driving all the way from Edmonton. He's going to head back tomorrow for college even though it's going to be Thanksgiving, which is why he's coming now. He won't be able to have dinner with us tomorrow.

"It should be in the afternoon," Arwa says, writing down stuff. She's doing some book report for school. "Will you stop asking?"

"Fine," I say throwing my hands up. It's so boring, waiting for Nico. I just want to see him really badly. I miss him. I wish he didn't go to college in Edmonton. I wish he went to college here in Calgary. We'd still be fighting a lot, and I'd get grounded a lot by Dad, but at least he'd still be here.

"I'm going outside," I say, shutting the door so Arwa can focus. I'm walking to my bedroom, which is next to Arwa's. Arwa's bedroom is messy while mine is much cleaner. I'm kind of a clean freak.

After I finish changing into my gasoline jeans, I put on a Levi's and get out of the house. I'm going to Aly's house. We'll probably go to Humpty's for lunch, which is why I brought money with me. We're going to have to take the bus to Humpty's, then pay for the food there. I always like the food there. Sure, it's egg-based, and I usually don't like eggs, but with Humpty's, that doesn't matter.

* * *

 **Aly**

 _12:00 pm_

Daria and I were sitting on a bus, with a combined total of fifty bucks in our pockets. We were going to Humpty's, one of my favourite restaurants in the city. Daria was sitting next to the window, which she always liked for some weird reason, and I was beside her.

"My brother's coming to see me today," she said happily, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "He's gonna stay for the night and go back to Edmonton tomorrow."

"Lucky you," I said. "At least you get to see your brother."

I remember this feeling of disappointment and anger at not seeing Josh. I was angry with him for going to British Columbia just for college. Sure, he got accepted and wanted to go there, but it made me feel like he was saying, I don't give a fuck about you. I don't need you.

Looking back now, I guess every younger sibling who has an older sibling go to college feels anger and sadness at their older sibling for not being with them. I think Daria felt the same way about Nico. And then seeing what happened in Nico's second year of college made it worse. I'm always going to be thankful Josh didn't make that same choice Nico did.

It doesn't bear thinking about Nico's choices in his sophomore year of college. It truly doesn't.

* * *

 **Daria**

 _1:35 pm_

"The food is great," I say to the waitress. I give her a ten dollar bill and she smiles, with her eyes growing wider and her freckles becoming more prominent. She brushes back a lock of copper hair as she opens her mouth to speak.

"Thank you. I really appreciate that." She turns away as Aly and I stand out of our seats. We go up to the counter and get our change. Aly decides to tip the waitress off with five dollars, as always. We leave the restaurant as soon we take our peppermints.

"I can't wait to see Nico." I don't care if it's the umpteenth time I say that. I'm just too excited.

"Just shut your piehole about it, Dars," Aly says, folding her arms and looking down.

"Is there something wrong, Aly?" I ask, turning around. My red hair blows into my face and I brush it out. I should have worn a mesh hair tie today. At least I wouldn't have this problem.

"Yeah," she says. She looks up. Her eyes are red and her face has stains on it. Are those tears?

"Your brother gets to visit you," she says, sniffling. I immediately feel guilty about it. Aly's brother Josh is in Vancouver, and I've been talking about my brother Nico visiting while Josh wouldn't be able to fly on a plane to see her. I never thought about it the entire time I'd been talking.

"I'm sorry," I say, moving toward her. I reach out to her, but she refuses my hand.

"I'm okay," she says, which instantly tells me she's not. I know when people are lying. I know Aly's not okay. However, something tells me she doesn't want to talk about it right now. Maybe later we could talk about it.

"Let's go to the park," I suggest, so we can forget about college. "We'll go on the swings." Aly looks up and smiles. Her eyes are still red, but she seems willing.

"For sure!" she says at the top of her lungs. "When do we go?"

"What?" A voice comes from behind me. I turn around as I see a boy with shoulder length brown hair and a cardigan. He has acid washed jeans and scrunched socks on. I recognize him right away. It's Randall Cromarty. He's wearing a smile, and I don't like it.

"What do ya want, dickhead?" I spit. My hands are on my hips and I stare at Randall intensely.

"What do ya want, dickhead?" he mimics in a baby voice. God, I hate that son of a bitch.

"Kill yourself," I say, holding up my finger. Yeah. I just flipped the bird at Randall Cromarty. His jaw drops and his eyes grow wide.

"Fuck you," Aly adds , standing next to me.

"Ahem." A man with a long ponytail and a blue cardigan sweater walks up to us. He has blue eyes and brown hair, and he's six feet tall. His hands are on his hips and he's giving me a death stare. I feel my throat tighten with fear and my face grow hot with embarrassment.

Dad, of all people, has to catch me in an argument with Randall Cromarty.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, looking at Randall. I silently pray that Dad will let me off the hook after this, but I know he won't actually do that.

"Sorry about what?" Oh boy. Dad is not happy about this. He's really pissed off.

"I'm sorry I told you to kill yourself and gave you the finger." Aly apologizes to Randall for flipping him off. I can feel Dad squeezing my arm tightly as he pulls me away from Aly. _Good luck,_ she mouths as I look at her.

* * *

 _1:56 pm_

"Please tell me you did not just tell that boy to kill himself." I can feel Dad glaring at me angrily. Man, I really, really wish I hadn't said that to Randall. He may be a barf bag, but that was a really dumb thing to do.

"I did." I'm still not looking at Dad, because I know if I look at him, it'll mean a very long lecture. Not that that matters.

"Look at me," Dad says, putting his hands on my shoulders. I look up at him. I can see the disappointment in his eyes as he breathes heavily on me. His hands fall off my shoulders as I close my eyes and look down. Dad lifts my chin up with a jerk and slaps me. Tears begin to slowly gather up in my eyes and I try to control them, even though when I cry, I can't.

"You-" Dad takes my chin again as I pant, waiting to see what he'll do next. I think he'll slap me again. I can see it in his eyes even though they seemed to have grown softer just by looking at me. Instead of slapping me, he grabs my arm and takes me to my bedroom. When we're there, he shuts the door and points to my bed. I sit down on the bed with my legs crossed and Dad sits next to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and takes my chin.

"Listen, Daria," he says, speaking in Arabic, "what you did back there was seriously bad judgement. I don't know what that boy said to you, but you don't take insults like that. You can't just say those things to others and expect there to be no consequences. You may have just told a boy who could be suicidal to kill himself."

"But Dad-" I cry out, but Dad puts his finger on my lips.

"You're grounded," he says, standing up, "until I say you're not. I want you to think about what you said to that boy very carefully. You will never know if you're going to have someone you know and love kill themselves, Daria. You really don't know until it happens."

I watch Dad take some tissues and hand to me. Then he leaves the room and shuts the door. Still wiping tears from my eyes, I take the tissues and dab my eyes with them. I lie face down on my pillow and silently cry into it for Lord knows how long.

Why can't life be easy?

* * *

 **Let's just say the whole 'kill yourself' thing and Aly's commentary about Nico's choices in this chapter will become a lot harder to read about in the next story, _1984-1985._ Other than that, feel free to review my story, and no flaming please. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Daria**

 _Sunday, October 9th, 1983. 6:39 pm_

I hear a loud rapping sound on the door. I don't care about it, and I'm showing it by turning my back to the wall. I'm grounded. Why should I care?

"Daria?" I jerk. Why does that voice seem so familiar? Slowly, I turn my head around, but then I turn it back to the wall again. I don't want to know who it is.

I can hear the door slowly open behind me, and quiet footsteps follow it. Soon, the door closes again, and all of a sudden, someone is sitting next to me on the bed. I turn my head to see who it is.

He has the same sparkly blue eyes Dad does, and the brown hair. It's much shorter, and his cheeks are covered with red kiss stains. He's wearing ripped jeans, and he has a huge smile on his face. I know that smile. It belongs to my brother Nico.

I throw my arms around his neck and start sobbing. It's the second time I cried today, and this time, I feel happy. These tears are tears of joy. Nico is back, and he's staying for the night. It's so thrilling to have him here. I haven't seen him in forever.

"Hey, sis. I'm glad you're happy." He pulls away to smile at me. I punch him in the shoulder. I'm good at punching people. Once, Marco and I got into a fist fight (long story), and I won by punching him in the face so hard, he got a nose bleed. I did get into deep shit with Dad though, but it was worth it. I do wish I did a bit more, like break his collarbone, but I wouldn't have gone much further than that.

"I missed fighting with you!" I shout at the top of my lungs. "I'm so happy right now! I get to fight with you again."

I hear a loud chuckle from the doorway as Nico ruffles my hair. God, his fingers are so rough and gnarly. But then again, he's studying to get a degree in mechanics. Yeah, he's doing the same thing Dad does.

"You're already fighting with him?" Dad is leaning against the wall, and he has this huge smile on his face. Why does he have to be so cheesy? "How's college, Nico?" he asks, turning away from me as I grab a pillow and hurl it at him. He'll be pissed with me for that, but who gives a fuck.

"It's really stressful," Nico says. He's not smiling anymore. "It doesn't help that Anna was dating another guy behind my back."

Dad raises his eyebrows. Anna is Nico's girlfriend. They've been dating since Grade 11. To be honest, I never liked Anna that much. "Tell me about it," he says, gesturing Nico over. He points to me and gives a death stare. Hoo boy. I'm in deep shit again for the second time today.

"Nico's telling you about what?" A woman with jet black hair and a lacy dark crop top stands next to Dad. As she speaks, she drums her fingers against the wooden doorframe. She has a huge smile plastered on her face.

"Nirvana!" I shout. I love Nirvana. She's a banging woman. I really hope Dad marries her sometime or another. I'd like to have her as my stepmother.

"Hey kid," she says, looking at me. She turns her attention to Nico. "How's it going, Nico? You're gonna tell your dad 'bout college?"

"Guess so," Nico says, getting up from the bed. He nods at me, which is a sign meaning he'll come and see me again tonight. "See ya later, Dars."

I watch him walk up to Dad and take the pillow from him. He tosses it back to me and I catch it. Dad puts his hand on Nico's shoulder and leads him away, speaking in Arabic. Nirvana comes in as soon as they disappear from view and closes the door.

"I heard you got into trouble again," she says, sitting next to me. Like me, she's sitting cross-legged.

"Yeah," I mutter. "So much for a good comeback."

"Tell me about it." Nirvana leans in closer and looks at me attentively.

I tell her about my day, starting from hanging out with Aly to that argument with Randall, and Dad's punishment. While I'm talking, Nirvana just listens and doesn't interrupt. This is what I like about Nirvana. She listens to what I say, and gives me really good advice about stuff whenever Aly's advice doesn't help at all.

"Your dad has a good point," she says, when I'm done. "You might have told a suicidal boy to kill himself. How would you feel if he actually killed himself?"

"I didn't actually mean it," I protest. Randall may be a butt ugly dickweed, but I wouldn't want him to actually kill himself.

"I know, but what if he actually did it?"

For a moment, I feel a little guilty. "I'd feel really bad," I say.

"How would you sleep at night?" Nirvana asks, leaning even closer. "You would just stay up thinking about it all night long. You wouldn't be able to stand facing people that boy was close with. It would haunt you for the rest of your life."

I feel even more guilty. I really wish I could take back what I said.

"Just think about it, kid." She gets off the bed and goes to the doorway. "I'll see you at dinner."

"I'll see you, too," I say, looking down as she leaves the room.

What would happen if Randall killed himself? What would happen?

* * *

 **I'm not updating next Saturday because I'll be on a field trip to British Columbia, and there's no Internet access.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Jack**

 _December 3rd 1983. 9:00 am_

I cover my hands over my ears as I try to focus on reading my book. I can hear shouting in the living room, and the sound of papers being flung across the room. Breathing heavily, I fold the corner of my page and put my book down. Sweat pours down my face as I crawl across the worn down carpet of my room to get my AC/DC vinyl. As soon as I get the vinyl ready, I begin playing AC/DC. The first song is "Back in Black," which is the reason why I started playing AC/DC in the first place. I always loved the voice of Brian Johnson. I have a lot of respect for him. He's my hero. Anyone who says he's a dickhead is an utter hoser. He's that much of a cool and tight guy.

For hours, I just sit in my bedroom, reading and listening to music. Time basically speeds up in my bedroom, because when I get too tired to read, it's around one in the afternoon. As Mom always says, time flies.

Speaking of Mom, she is not happy.

* * *

 _Five hours later_

I go into the kitchen to get something to eat for a snack. I always eat Mom's double chocolate chip cookies, which are in the cookie jar on top of the fridge. However, the moment I enter the kitchen, I see a chair turned over, and Mom sitting at the table, her head in her hands. Her hair's a mess, which looks nothing like Mom at all. In fact, it looks as though she tried to rip it out with a chef's knife and succeeded in some parts.

On the floor, there's all these papers scattered around the floor, with photos on the ground. I see some of them; they are of me, Mom, and Dad in Halifax, where I was born. I moved to Calgary when I was three and a half. We go to Halifax each summer, and sometimes, Christmas break.

"Hey Mom," I say, feeling a little unsure. What the heck am I doing? I am so not amped right now because of just this.

"Hey Mom," she says, looking up at me. Her eyes are red, and she has this smile that makes me uncomfortable.

"I'll book," I say, throwing my hands up and looking down. "We'll chat later."

"Yeah, book." Mom stands up with her hands on the table. "I need to be alone right now, and I don't want you bothering me. So shut up and leave."

I feel like Mom just bitch slapped me in the face. It makes me feel even more ill than I already feel.

* * *

 _2:30 pm_

I hear footsteps coming from behind the door. And I hear shouting.

"Kandyce!" Marco. I came to his house because I can't come to Cass's, even if he's my BFF. His aunt and uncle think I'm a noob. I kind of am.

Kandyce, Marco's really blar older sister answers the door. She's picking her nose and stares at me. She's reminding me I'm a wastoid.

"I need to talk with Marco," I rush. "It's about this warped stuff going on at my house."

* * *

 _2:34 pm_

"'Sup dude?" Marco says with a smile. He looks like he just used spray-on hair dye, which he probably did, because his hair is purple for some reason.

"Nothing good," I say, and I tell his everything that just went on at my house. Marco just listens.

"So that's why you came in this cold," he says. I nod. Winters in Calgary are so cold, unless there's a chinook, which is when they're a bit warmer.

"What do you think is going on with my parents?" I feel like I'm going to cry. I take a deep breath.

"I don't know," Marco says. "I've got shit of my own too. I might not be able to help you."

"Alright then." I feel bagged that Marco couldn't help me, but I do feel better talking to him. For some tard reason, talking about my problems makes me feel better.

"I'll book," I say. A few minutes later, I'm out the door, walking in the cold, dead winter.

* * *

 **I can tell you that winters in Calgary really are cold. Heck, winters in Southern Alberta are cold. I know that cause I live in Southern Alberta.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Daria is a Turkish name and Turkey is a Muslim country. They speak languages including, but not limited to, Turkish, Arabic, Kurmanji, Karbadian, Zaza, and so on.**

* * *

 **Daria**

 _December 20th, 1983_

"Nico's coming home tomorrow," I say, holding the phone to my ear. Aly's on the other end.

"My brother Josh is already home," she says.

"Oh," I say. I feel a hand on my shoulder as I speak. I look around. It's Dad. That means he wants me to get off the phone. "I'll talk later." I immediately hang up and get out of the chair I was sitting in.

"Daria," Dad says, still keeping his hand on his shoulder, "you need to talk a bit less on the phone with Aly. I think she's a bad influence."

I turn around. "How is Aly a bad influence?" I shout. I don't get it. Dad wants me to have friends. He always keeps talking about growing up in the 50s and 60s friendless because his mom was Turkish and his dad was English. His parents are dead now.

"You do bad things sometimes, kid. I don't want you doing stuff like what you did back a few weeks ago."

Great. He still brings up the 'kill yourself' thing. I thought that was over.

"Do you have to keep bringing that up?" It's so boring how he brings that up all the time. I wish he'd stop.

Dad puts his hands on his hips and sighs. "You don't get it, do you?"

Not another rant from Dad again.

* * *

 **Aly**

 _"Josh!"_ I screamed at the top of my lungs. We were sitting in front of the Christmas tree, with a couple of gifts beside Josh. "I missed you. How's college?"

"Relax, Als," Josh ruffled my hair. It was around a few weeks before this time that he got his mullet haircut, which he still has. I never really thought about the fact many people think it's hideous, and I still don't. "College is great, but it is a bit lonely without you guys. How's school?"

"It's not bad," I said, sitting in Josh's lap like I did when I was in kindergarten.

"Aren't you too big for this?" Josh mutters, pushing me off his lap. Ever since I turned ten, he would push me out of his lap every time I sat in it, whether it be because I just wanted to or I really wanted to annoy him.

"No," I said. At least that's what I _think_ I said. Josh smiled.

"Aly, I forgot to bring you a gift, so here's a deal." I remember sitting in my Christmas sweater crisscrossed, with big, fluffy pink and brown hair and a mesh tie to go with it, right in front of Josh. "I can buy you a gift today, or I can take you to visit British Columbia in the summer. I'll give you until dinner to think about it."

Get me a gift or take me to British Columbia? Which should I choose? Last year I picked to get a gift from Josh, because he'd forgotten that year as well. Should I be choosing that this year, or should I go to British Columbia?

I'll tell you something I've learned since then, kids. I don't regret the decision I made that winter.

* * *

 **Randall**

"Well, Randy, it'll be Christmas soon. What do you wish for?" I remember Grandpa Cromarty's wide, cheeky smile. Whenever it was Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa Cromarty would treat it as a birthday, so I'd get to make a wish on Christmas and my birthday.

"I don't know, Gramps," I said. I'd say that every time he asked me that because I really had no clue what I wanted.

"When I was your age, I got a copy of _Anne of Green Gables,_ " Gramps said after a while. I remember how thoughtful he sounded. "I gave your dad that copy I owned when he was your age. Because he bit the dust ten years ago, he won't get to give it to you. So I will do that in his place. He would've wanted you to have it."

I remember as I watched Gramps go to get the copy, I was just thinking, what was Dad like? I really wanted to get to know him, but I never did. I kind of hated that fact. Most kids grew up with their parents instead of grandparents. It kind of made me feel isolated, along with the fact that I was embarrassed about how my grandparents acted.

There's another reason why I thought my grandparents were bogue. There was a teacher I had, and I don't remember her name. That was because I called her the Betty, and I remember very well that she mocked me for the way my grandparents acted. "Randall," she would say, "you make me feel embarrassed about teaching at this school because your grandparents act like they are mentally ill."

Those were her actual words. This is something I've never liked talking about when it comes to my grandparents. If a teacher said that today, they'd be gone before you could say 'entitled.'

Back then, I thought that to keep myself from getting hurt by other people, I would have to become tougher. Looking back, I guess Jack, Cass, and Marco were kind of right about me being a big jerk. I actually _was_ a jerk. I'm not lying about it.

* * *

 **Jack**

"I made you this cake, son," Mom says, as she lays the pineapple upside down cake on the table. It may be covered with red, green, and white frosting, but I can tell it burned. Mom's going to want me to eat it, even though I'm going to end up really ill because of it. And I might end up a blar as well.

"It's...bombdigity," I say, looking at it with my jaw wide open. I don't actually think it's bombdigity. In fact, it's one butt ugly cake. I feel bad for even thinking it.

"I'm glad you think it's bombdigity," Mom says, sitting down across from me, "though I'm not sure what that means."

Of course she doesn't. Mom spends a lot of time crying and sleeping these days. I can't remember when she didn't do that.

"Anyhow," she says, leaning on the table. "Your father is going to take you to a candy shop today. He'll be here in an hour."

Come to think of it, I feel like I haven't seen Dad in a while. Even though the last time I saw him was...

When was the last time I saw him?

* * *

 **Marco**

"Here, Marco," Kandyce says, holding out a present. "I bought you an early Christmas present." I take it only to be polite because Dad's watching. Dad makes a very big deal over being polite. If he hadn't been there, I wouldn't be taking it because I'm still buggin' about that one time a week ago Kandyce forgot to wash her hands after using the bathroom. Mom thinks I'm going through some weird phase thing. So does Dad. In fact, they're trying to get me out of it.

"Thanks," I say as Kandyce sneezes. She gets sick every time Christmas comes around for some reason. Then again, wash your hands.

Dad looks at me and nods. I quickly run to my bedroom and wash my hands. Then, I go back to my bedroom and with rubber gloves on my hands (hey, hygiene's important), I open the present. As soon as I get the whole thing unwrapped, I pull it out. It's a copy of Def Leppard's new album _Pyromania._

 _Okay._ That's a bit shocking. I've kind of wanted that album since forever. Me, Jack, Cass, and Rando listen to loud music, which is the bulk music.

I leave my bedroom carrying the record and I begin playing it on our vinyl record player. All I can say is this: It's clutch.

* * *

 **Cass**

"Caaaaaasssss," Eloise whined.

"Fine," I shouted, throwing my hands up, giving in. Pretty frustrated that day, I was. Didn't wanna play Candyland or Hungry Hippos that day with Eloise. Heck, I was sleepy like a cow. Fell asleep late that night, from what I remember. Spent the whole night staring up at the ceiling for reasons I don't remember. Must've been one of those days when I was hyper.

Eloise's face cracked into a smile. "Let's play Hungry Hippos."

Well, for a weird reason, I loved that crucial game. Guess I was kind of a creep, as the bulk Radiohead song goes. Kids, this old man still is a creep. Ha.

I got out the game from underneath my bed (we were in my bedroom that day, Eloise and I) while my sis just watched. As soon as it was all up and ready, we started playing. Don't remember it too well, but as Randall always says, the details fade over time. Like an old photograph, Daria says. Was meant for that path she chose, Daria was, in her own way. We all are meant for our own paths.

* * *

 **Feel free to review.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Jack**

 _December 20th, 1983_

"What candy do you want, son?" Dad asks, as I examine the rows of Laffy Taffys, Babe Ruths, Hershey's, Kit Kats, Smarties, Trident, and lots more. Dad already got me some Oreos and Honey Nut Cheerios, and he might get me some Kellogg's as well.

After spending a few minutes examining all of them, I take two Laffy Taffy bars. I also take some strawberry and apple currant Pop-Tarts. On the way back to the car, Dad gets some Coke packs to take with us. As soon as we load them into the trunk, I sit next to the driver's seat. I wan to talk to Dad, but I don't know what to talk about.

The car ride is, at first, silent, but halfway through, Dad speaks up.

"How's school, son?" he asks.

"It's ace," I say. Dad actually gets us kids. Well, kind of. There are still some things he doesn't get yet.

He turns and smiles. It's a red light up ahead, so he can do it without getting us killed. "Good."

I smile back at Dad. I feel kind of happy to be around him. Especially since I don't remember the last time I saw him before this. I glance down at the silvery wrapping of my Pop-Tarts, and glance back at Dad, who's driving again. Slowly, I unwrap the Pop-Tart, seeing that there are two strawberry Pop-Tarts, I take one out and start eating it. At the next red light, I take out the other one and hand it to Dad.

"Here," I say, nudging him. Dad takes the Pop-Tart and I notice the corners of his mouth turn up a little.

"Thanks, kid."

"Bombdigity," Dad says after he takes a bite.

"Bombdigity," I echo.

Because the Pop-Tarts are bombdigity.

The rest of the car ride continues in silence, with us eating Pop-Tarts.

* * *

 **Aly**

"Josh," I said, finally mustering up all my courage. It was dinner that night, and all four of us were sitting at the table, eating mince pies and drinking eggnog, and I was terrified of receiving disapproval for my decision. "I'm going to visit British Columbia with you in the summer."

Everything suddenly stopped. Mom looked at me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. It was like her green eyes were piercing me with invisible razors of shock.

"Are you sure, Aly?" she said, as soon as she swallowed her food. "It's a big decision to be making."

"Here I thought she would be wise enough to choose the mall like last year," Dad growled. He was giving Josh a death stare. "Here I thought I could trust her to be smart."

"I _am_ smart, Dad," I protested. I'd put my fork on the table. "It's just that I've gone to the mall too many times. It's starting to get boring. I can go to the mall anytime I want." I cleared my throat a little before continuing. "I've never been to British-"

"I get that, missy," Dad interrupted, hands on his hips. "But isn't the mall less far away? You don't have to stay overnight at the mall, and it costs less." He turned to Josh and said, "Mister, you can go to British Columbia if you want, but your sister is staying here." There was a hint of authority in his voice, and he sounded like he did not want anyone to talk back to him.

Not that that mattered.

"No!" I shouted. "I'm not staying here. I'm going to British Columbia. I _want_ to do it."

"Aly," Mom said, standing out of her chair. I remember she was very upset with me. "You're too young to make decisions like this. You can go to British Columbia a few years from now. What could possibly be wrong about staying here for the summer?"

"I really want to go, Mom," I pleaded. "Please. I want to know what it's like. I've spent every summer here. I want to do something different."

"I think she'll really love it," Josh added. "She'll get to see more of Canada, and I think it'll be good for her. There are things in British Columbia you can do but can't do in Calgary. She'll only be with me in Vancouver for a couple of weeks. Let her come. I'll even pay half of the cost."

"Even Josh agrees!" At this point, I was full-on yelling. "Let me go! Otherwise I'll never talk to anyone ever again! Not till I go to British Columbia."

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We were quiet for a long time, and the silence was deafening.

Finally, Dad spoke. "I am still not allowing it." His glare was intense. "And that is final."

"Then you're making a big mistake!" I shouted. "I'm still going, whether you like it or not!"

I stomped to my bedroom and slammed the door. I could hear arguing between Josh and our parents.

"It's not fair," I muttered. "Why do Mom and Dad hate me? Why do they want to make me unhappy?"

That's exactly how I felt. Until that moment an hour later I heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said, bracing myself for the bad news that was about to come. Josh walked in and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Good news," he said, taking a deep breath. "You're coming to Victoria with me for a week in July."

"I am?" I remember looking up and feeling shock. I hadn't expected Josh to get it his way.

He just nodded and smiled.

"THANK YOU!" I shouted, wrapping my arms around him.

I don't like what I did, but I don't regret the decision.

* * *

 **Randall**

I was sitting in my bedroom, past my bedtime, still staring at my copy of _Anne of Green Gables._ I hadn't opened it yet, but now that it was probably past midnight, I finally decided to open it up, though I wasn't going to read it. I didn't know why I was opening the book only to not read it.

I turned open the cover and noticed something written in Gramps's handwriting, and something else written in handwriting I didn't recognize.

 _June 3rd, 1916_

 _My ma gave me this today. "Read it, John. For my own sake. I'm dying now, so this is what you'll have left of me."_

 _Ma's dying from galloping consumption, and Pa's off fighting the war in France. All I'll have left is Mary and Gilbert, but Mary is soon going to be old enough to have a husband, and Gilbert's two years younger than me. That means I'll have to support me and him unless Maria finds a job._

 _John Cromarty_

That was the first thing I read. The next was written years later, in 1953.

 _April 19th, 1952_

 _This is for my own son, Michael Cromarty, for he is my only child. I would like for him to pass this book on to his own children. I do hope that he will enjoy the gift his father has given him._

 _I remember sometime after I got this, Ma died, and Maria had to start working to support us. Pa also died in the Great War._

 _John Cromarty_

And there was a third note written.

 _June 26th, 1971_

 _Lucy and I have a son. He was born five days ago, on June 21st. I remember when my father gave me this edition of Anne of Green Gables, back when I was just a lad. Aged twelve and half. I remember how it felt to read this. I felt the way Anne did at times. I was too embarrassed to admit to my friends that I was reading a 'girls' book. Looking back, I'm glad I read this book, otherwise, I would've missed out on a lot._

 _I'm naming my son Randall._ _When he's twelve, I'll give this to him._

 _Michael Cromarty_

I ran my fingers over Dad's note. I felt a strange connection to him, almost as though he were actually in the room, sitting on the bed with me, reading this. I had some photos of him under my bed, and I pulled them out that night. For the umpteenth time, I stared at the last photo of my parents.

It was a faded black-and-white, and my mother was smiling into the camera with a huge, bright smile on her face, her light hair in a French braid.. She was holding me, and I was dressed in all white. Dad held my tiny little hands, and he seemed to be laughing with joy. I could see his dimples show in the photo. They went well with his black hair and widow's peak, which I got from him.

"What were you like?" I muttered under my breath. "What were you like?"

* * *

 **There will be a third chapter adding to the Christmas part of the story. I don't know when it's going up, though it should be by the end of the week. Enjoy!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Daria**

 _Christmas, 1983_

"This one's for Daria!" Frada shouts out loud. She's still holding the Barbie doll I bought for her in one hand, and my gift by the ribbons in the other. The silver wrapping glints in the light as I take it and read the note attached to it. It feels very light, so it must not be too expensive.

 _For Daria_

 _From Dad_

Dad. Huh.

I unwrap the gift and take the lid off. Very, very slowly, I pull it out. It's a 7-inch vinyl copy of David Bowie's single "Without You." My eyes widen, and I nearly drop the vinyl.

 _Dad_ got _me_ a David Bowie record? I did not see that coming, I kid you not.

I'm so amped Dad got me this. Quickly, I set the vinyl back in the box and run into the kitchen while Frada starts shouting my name out loud, where I see Dad about to smooch with Nirvana.

"Dad!" I shout. Nirvana and Dad immediately look away from each other and at me. Everything I start saying comes out in Arabic, just like I planned it to be.

"Thank you thank you thank you so much for the record!" I jump right in between Dad and Nirvana and wrap my arms around Dad as tightly as possible. "I love you, Dad. I'm so glad you got me that single."

"I-I-I am very glad," Dad says, as he holds me, He's speaking very slowly in Arabic, and normally, he doesn't speak very slowly.

"Now I see you love him," Nico says in English, ruffling my hair and chuckling. Where did he come from?

"Say what?" I unwrap my arms from Dad's grip, but he's still holding onto me. Nirvana is leaning against the wall, smiling. Her black lipstick runs onto her teeth, and it's easy to tell, even from a distance.

"You love him. You're even sitting in his lap." Nico grins with a gleam in his eye. It's the first time he's made eye contact with me since came back. He came back a few days ago, and he looks very different from what he did before. He looks really droopy, and he has dark circles under his red eyes. His breath smells as though he hasn't brushed it in days, and he avoids eye contact a lot.

Am I? Because if I am, I don't know how I got there.

"You love it, kid?" Dad says, placing a kiss on my cheek.

"Yes," I say. "I do."


	15. Chapter 15

**Daria**

 _January 5th, 1984_

It's been two days since Nico turned nineteen, and I'm sitting on what used to be his and Arwa's bed while he's out with friends. He's coming back tonight to pack up for uni again.

I feel rather bored right now, and what I do when I feel bored is go around searching people's underwear drawers. I know that sounds bunk, but it's a habit of mine. Besides, I haven't seen him in a dick year. What did he bring back from uni that we didn't get to see?

I unzip his suitcase and start moving stuff around just because. After piles of clothes, I find two bags. One is filled with brown powder, and the other has sugar in it. I take out both of them. Why would Nico bring back sugar and brown powder from uni?

* * *

"Nico! Nico!" I shout, as I see Nico's car pull up in front of our bungalow. Well, actually, it's his friend Eddy's, but whatever. I watch Nico step out of the car with a cigarette in his mouth, and smoke coming out of it. Reminds me that Dad used to smoke in the 60s. If I remember correctly, he was also a hippie. There's photos in his bedroom. He shuts the blue car door so hard, I can hear it from the doorway, where I'm standing in my pajamas, shivering from the winter cold. I hear another blast of wind howl as Nico walks up the snowy pathway. He's not making eye contact, as usual.

"You brought back sugar and brown powder from uni!" I say, as Nico steps up and opens the door. Dad, Arwa, and Frada aren't home because they're eating out. I chose not to go because I want to talk to Nico about the bags I found. "Why is that?" I continue on as I follow him inside, shutting the door and closing it. He's not saying anything, instead, he starts walking up to the kitchen without even taking his boots off, tracking snow around the floor.

"Dude, take off your boots!" I shout, kicking mine off and following Nico. He's just standing nearby the chairs, smoking his cigarette, still not talking.

"Speak!" I yell, tugging his arm. Nico has such a bohunk body, I have to use both hands to pull because his wrists are thick. Then again, I'm kind of small and petite and very skinny at around 4'7". That's why I feel like a hoser compared to everyone else in Grade 7. I've met fifth graders taller than me, I kid you not. I feel like I'll never be five feet. Like I said earlier, I'm very skinny as well, which is why Dad says I should gain weight because 67 pounds is unhealthy. It feels terrible. Can you relate?

"Bag your face, brat," Nico says, as soon as he pulls his arm away. My jaw drops in shock at what he just said. I haven't heard him say that since the last time we had a fight, which was in August.

"You bag your face!" I retort, and I stomp to my room and slam the door shut.

* * *

I hear a rap on my bedroom door. Quickly, I fold the corner of the page I was just reading and throw it on my desk. I run to the door and open it to see Nico standing there, with a bean in his mouth. Dad would kill him if he found out Nico was bringing beans home because they're illegal. Not only that, every time you turn on the TV, you see an advertisement about how drugs are bad for you. I even heard the First Lady started this whole campaign to discourage people from drugs. It's why I think TV's bunk nowadays. When I was Frada's age I would watch Scooby-Doo! Those were good days.

Unlike these days.

"I'm sorry, Daria," Nico says, after a long silence.

"Cheeuh," I say, folding my arms across my chest. I'm not even facing him.

"Those bags I brought back from uni..." Nico says, his voice low. "They're not sugar and brown powder. They're heroin and crack."

Heroin and crack? Aren't those drugs?

"Dad will murder you," I say.

"I'm keeping them for a friend."

It's a lie. I know it is. But I don't call him out for it.

* * *

 **Jack**

 _January 12th, 1984_

I can feel his figure hanging over me as I open my locker.

"You're such a butt ugly airhead, McKinley." I don't even need to look up to know Randall's smiling. "The only way a bitchin' girl would marry you is in the dark."

I try to hold back my tears as I throw my chicken and school crap into my locker. Why do I have to start lunch like this?

"Bag it, Cromarty," I shout, turning my face to the opposite direction. My face is hot, and I can feel the tears well up.

"Crunchy, McKinley? You're crunchy because I'm bodacious and you're not." It feels like the words are echoing themselves in my head like a record, over and over again. I curl up my fists, thinking of how to get back at Randall when the perfect plan hits me.

"If you're so bodacious," I yell, turning to face Randall, "then go hit on Aly and Daria!"

"Damn skippy I will," Randall says, folding his arms with a huge smile on his face.

This is just the start.

* * *

I crawl up behind Randall as he brags about his hair to Daria and Aly, who seem to ignoring him as he's yapping. I stick my fingers on the hip area of his gasoline pants. He's not wearing a belt, which makes my plan much easier.

I pull his pants down as quickly as I can and run to the washroom as fast as possible. Once I get there, I breathe a sigh of relief and put my hands on my hips. I am so proud of what I just did, I want to throw a huge party. But not in here. For now, I'll just let Daria and Aly giggle at Randall not even realizing I just pantsed him.

* * *

It's the end of the day, and I just finished clapping the erasers. I'm at my locker, pulling my chicken and crap out of my locker when someone punches me in the shoulder. I yelp out of pain and grab my shoulder, rubbing it as I turn to face a tiny stick in a black crop top and neon RaRa mini skirt with black tights and green scrunch socks. Her hair is blue and tied up in a black mesh hair tie, but I can see the red roots. It's clearly Daria, and next to her is a taller girl with a pair of black desert boots and a denim skirt. Her hair is green, and you can't even tell the colour of the roots because it's covered up so well, only with her, she's wearing her hair like Farrah, though weeks ago, it was something different. I don't remember what haircut it was, but it was different. This taller girl is Aly.

"Dude, we saw you pants Randall at lunch. I don't care about the pantsing part, but did you have to pull his calzones down?" Daria is giving me a death stare as Aly just looks at me.

"I didn't plan to pull his calzones down, and I'm pretty sure I didn't." What are they talking about?

Aly raises her hand but Daria grabs it. "He's not lying," she says, looking at me.

"Fine," Aly growls, her face pinched, "but if he does it again, then he can eat shit and die."

Daria lets go of Aly's arm, and Aly pins me to the locker. I can feel sweat beads roll down my forehead as she tightens her grip.

"Why did you pants Randall?" she asks. Her voice seems a lot less harsh this time. She's even making eye contact, though I wish she wasn't, with her blue eyes piercing into me.

"I w-w-wanted r-r-r-r-rev-v-v-v-venge," I stutter. "R-r-r-randall w-w-was b-b-b-being a d-d-d-dickhead and...and...I-"

"Aly, stop," Daria says, grabbing Aly's arm again. Aly lets go of me, and I pant with relief as I drop to the ground.

"I hope he's learned his lesson," Aly says, as she and Daria turn. Daria walks on, but Aly looks back at me, with an expression on her face I can't read, though something tells me it might be sympathy.

Does she feel sorry for me?


	16. Chapter 16

**Aly**

 _February 6th, 1984_

"Do you need help, Daria?" I asked. I could hear papers shuffling on the other end of the phone. Daria and I did this every night.

"Na. I'm chill. You wanna come over? My dad and sisters are out of the house." I could hear heavy breathing and a loud sigh.

"Your dad and sisters aren't home?" I asked. I hardly ever got invited to Daria's because she wasn't allowed to bring anyone over when her dad was there.

"They're going to the mall. I decided to stay home and study for math and French."

"French?" I asked. I'd forgotten that Daria was one of the few people I knew who could speak more than one language because I was so used to speaking in English.

I could hear her sigh in exasperation. "My dad made me take it, remember? French is so bogue. I swear, if you were in it with me, you would think so too."

"It can't be that bad," I said.

"IT IS!" Daria yelled.

"Take a chill, dude," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm coming over soon. Bye."

"Bye."

I don't remember too much, but what I do know is that my parents weren't home, so I could throw on my winter clothes and head out. As soon as I was dressed, I took my school stuff and went out the door. I'd locked it and took the keys with me. Daria and I didn't live far from each other, so I wasn't worried about getting lost.

As soon as I rung the doorbell to Daria's house, I could hear footsteps coming. The door opened, and Daria was standing there, wearing a pair of really short shorts and a shirt with _Rebel Rebel_ written on it and an image of David Bowie smoking a cigarette. Her hair was in pigtails, one tied with a black mesh tie, the other with a white, and they hung high over her ears.

"You're here!" she said, with her voice upbeat. Despite the cold, she didn't seem to be bothered about it. "Come in."

I stepped inside and handed my stuff over to Daria, who took it ran to the kitchen room. I closed the door behind me and took off my outer clothes, then followed Daria to the kitchen room. On the table, a bunch of papers and school supplies were piled carelessly on top of each other, and Daria was sitting in one of the chairs, already writing stuff down with her pencil. I took my school supplies and began to work as well. I don't know how much time had passed before we started talking to each other, but I do know it was a long time. Probably two hours.

"I'm really bored. This homework is so dag I hate it." Daria stood out of her chair and tightened one of her pigtails. I'd been feeling a bit burned out as well from that habit of mine where I'd study for hours and not take any break.

"I wanna take a break," I said, putting down my pencil. I'd been doing corrections on my math homework, and so far, I hadn't found a single wrong answer. It was the same with the rest of my homework. "Do you wanna do our hair up and put on makeup?"

Daria's eyes widened. "Sure! I'll run to Arwa's and get some makeup. You put on music."

I nodded. "Sure."

I put on "Come on Eileen" by Dexys Midnight Runners. It was one of me and Daria's favourite songs besides almost anything by David Bowie.

Daria came back with a box in her hands. She set it on the table as I turned it up and opened it. Inside, there were a thousand different lipstick colours, along with mascara and eye shadow and some combs and hair mousse. Daria pulled one tube of lipstick out and handed it to me.

"Want it?" Daria smiled cheekily as I smiled back and took. I pulled out a mirror from the box and set it in front of me. I started applying the black lipstick on my face while Daria put on this dark blue eye shadow. She was holding a tube of mascara in her hand with the eye shadow lid.

"Gimme that deadly mascara, betty," I said, with a smile.

"Yeah," she said, handing it over.

* * *

"Gotta bounce now, Daria," I said, putting on my anorak and snow pants.

An hour had passed since we started doing the makeup, and I could hear the beginning of "Stayin' Alive" just after hearing "Space Oddity." Daria and I took turns using the makeup, and we even applied some on each other. I braided Daria's hair into two French braids while mine was covered with banana clips and a hot pink bandana.

"It's been crucial, Aly," Daria said, checking to see if her lipstick was still there. She was holding my school stuff in her hand, and she was watching me put on my stuff.

"Damn skippy," I said, with a smile, once I was dressed for the weather.

"I'll see ya," she said, handing me my stuff.

"I'll see you." I walked out the door, with my school materials in my hands, feeling elated.

It was such a great day...

Until I got home.


	17. Chapter 17

**Aly**

 _February 6th, 1984_

I examined myself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. All I could think of was how much of a disaster I looked. My hair was pinned with banana clips, and they made it stick out in such a way that it made me look a bit like a mad scientist who just had an explosion in their lab. My face looked a bit like the floor of the lab, except a hundred times more colourful. That's putting it quite lightly, to be honest.

I knew if my parents saw me, they would murder me right there on the spot. So with a wet piece of toilet paper, right in the middle of the bathroom, I wiped my face, smearing the makeup all over my face, making me look a little less like a disaster. While I was cleaning myself, I could hear my parents car from outside the house.

Uh-oh.

I threw a ton of water at my face and wiped it with Mom's towel. By the time I was finished, my mom's towel was horribly smeared. If she saw that, I was dead.

"Aly!" That was Dad.

My face was still covered with makeup, not a lot, but enough for my parents to know I was up to something. I started panicking right there on the spot. What was I going to do? If I didn't do something, I was in deep shit.

Quickly, I doused another piece of toilet paper and wiped my face, really hard. Again, I used Mom's towel to clean myself. While I was rubbing my face, a knock came on the door.

"I'm coming!" I threw Mom's towel onto the rack and opened the door. Dad was standing there, with his hands on his hips.

"We need to talk, missy. It's about your brother Josh." Dad pointed me to the kitchen and I meekly looked down.

"Thank goodness it's not about the fact that I went to Daria's and had a makeover," I muttered under my breath.

"I can hear you!" Dad had really good hearing. That has, and always will be, the reason why you don't whisper things you don't want him hearing when he's nearby.

That is why me and Josh were in trouble: me for the makeover, him for taking out a student loan. I know that doesn't sound like something to be in trouble for, even though you get debt, but me and Josh had very...

My parents were hard-working, and that's what they prided themselves in. To them, taking out a student loan meant that you weren't willing to work for what you wanted. I think that was one of the reasons my mom nearly flunked uni. Same with Dad. Both of them were a bit proud.

I suppose that showed in their kids as well.

* * *

 **Marco**

 _March 30, 1984_

"Dude, Jack, you actually pantsed Randall?" I shout. This is great news.

"Yeah," Jack says, with a huge smile. "In front of two betties: Aly and Daria. I accidentally pulled down his chonies. In front of them."

"Damn," I say, as my eyes peer over to Randall and Aly, who are talking to each other at the river. Everyone loves the river and the park nearby it, along with the swimming pool and the pedestrian bridge. That's why we come here when we've got the time.

"You wanna go up to Rands and Als and ask them about it?" I say. It's seems like a pretty clutch idea. I can already imagine the look on Randall's face when we mention the pantsing.

"Damn skippy," Jack says, smiling even wider. "Come on." Jack begins jogging to Aly and Randall, the longer side of his hair swishing over his shoulder while the shorter part just doesn't move. That's cause it's a little longer than a stubble. I run after Jack as he slows down to a walk, approaching Aly and Randall. I catch up with him as soon as Jack finishes saying this:

"Did you see Randall's dick, Aly? I know you and Daria lied about it."

Aly's face turns red as she opens her mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry! Daria and I lied to you about your dick because we were so embarrassed. It's a grower."

Jack, Randall, and I watch Aly run away, sobbing. We turn to face Randall, whose face is even redder than Aly's.

"Is it actually that small?" I ask. I feel bad for him not because he got pantsed, but because his dick's so small. No way he'd get a gal pal after this.

"Did you have to bring it up?" Randall says, his teeth gritted.

"Marco and I wanted to, as a prank," Jack says, throwing his hands up. "Don't have a cow, man. It's not a big deal."

"Bite me!" Randall shouts, as he walks away. Jack and I just watch.

"Maybe that was a bad idea," Jack says. A gale of wind blows in our faces.

"Yeah," I say, nodding. "Let's book."

Jack and I leave the park, with all of its little kids and tweeting birds, and grownups reading newspapers and smoking, behind.


	18. Chapter 18

**Cass**

 _April 6th, 1984_

I remember this day so well.

I was walking home from school, just feeling like a noob over my math test score. Got a 90%, I tell you, but to Aunt Marie and Uncle Bernie, that would've meant failure. And you do not want a failure with Aunt Marie or Uncle Bernie.

So I was walking home, when I saw this guy with a green Mohawk. He was dressed up like Billy Idol and he was wearing black sunglasses, and his eyebrows had a slash through both of them. He had an earing on his right ear, and a nose piercing. This dude was carrying a box of cigarettes, and one was sticking out of his mouth, the smoke flowing out gracefully.

The minute I saw those cigs, an idea came into my head. If I knew what back then what everyone knows now about cigs, I probably wouldn't have even thought of doing this, but back then, smoking cigs was normal. You could go outside during recess and you'd have to try to find a teacher that wasn't smoking or rolling a beanie. Anyhow, kids, don't do this. Ever. If you someone smoking, do not ever do what I did.

Even if you hate your old bossy aunt and uncle who pressure you a lot and you want to piss them off real good.

I went up to that smoker, and took out some chicken and held out my hand.

"Can I have a cigarette from you?" I asked. The smoker looked at me in the eye.

"Sure, kid," he said, pulling a cigarette out of his box. "I'll light it for you," were his next words.

I watched him light up the cig and hand it to me.

"Put it in your mouth and take a puff. Then take it out and breathe." He showed me how to do it, he did. Put it in the mouth, take a puff, then take out it and breathe.

I put the cig in my mouth and puffed. Almost immediately, I felt this strange sensation. Can't really describe it. Can't really find the right words. It was a sort a tingling feeling up my spine. Quickly, I pulled that thing out of my mouth and coughed. Really hard, I did.

"It's normal, kid," the dude said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Get used to it."

He pulled out a box of cigarettes and handed it to me. I thanked him and walked home, just thinking of how it was all worth it.

If I'd known that I'd be smoking for twenty-six years, and what the risks were, I might not have done it. I know I sound like a hypocrite telling you not to smoke, but really, you shouldn't. I've been smoking for entire adult life, and it wasn't until around eight years ago that I began trying to quit.

If there is one thing I learned from this, it's that once you start smoking, it's hard to go back, but since I actually managed to quit, it is possible. Sooner you do it, easier it is.

Maybe those people who were shoving that whole anti-drug thing down our throats were on to something.

* * *

 **I remember when I was in Grade 9, one of my teachers said you could go outside and all the teachers would be smoking when he was a kid. I think said teacher was a kid in the late 80s/early 90s, so to learn that smoking was still that common surprised me a lot.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Marco**

 _April 15th, 1984_

"Yo, Rands!" I shout. Him, me and Daria just got thrown together for a group project. It's a poetry project where we have to write poetry and the other two people in our group assess our work. Then Ms. Kane, the teacher, decides if it's a good assessment or not. Daria just left with Aly and Sue Morales while me and Randall have to clap erasers in Ms. Kane's.

"What?" he says. His arms are crossed, and he's leaning against the wall. His head's low, and his hood's pulled over his head, so I can't see his eyes. This is one of those days when he's still pissed about the pantsing thing. Randall was definitely not amped about it. Jack and I still feel really bad about it, except Randall's less mean to me. Jack? He won't even talk to him. Let's just leave it at that.

"We have to clap erasers in Ms. Kane's," I say. Randall looks up at me and pulls down his hood. His hair is tied back in a ponytail, as usual. It makes him look like a mini version of those yuppies, only with acid washed jeans and metal band t-shirts.

"I know," he says. "I hate Ms. Kane. Big time."

Randall says that all the time. I don't think anyone likes her. Bhegad thinks she's one of the best teachers in the school, but in reality, she's just bootleg, like Dimitrios, the gym teacher, or Cyclops, the science guy. Especially when you compare her to Mr. Fritz, or Mrs. Wilson. They're the real deal. Everyone likes them.

"But we still have to do it," I say. "She'll give us detention if we don't."

As soon as we get to Ms. Kane's, Randall picks up two erasers and starts clapping them together. A lot of dust starts flying around. I also talk some erasers and begin clapping them. While I start coughing from all the dust I'm inhaling, I hear a door shut, followed by the sound of high heels on the floor.

It must be Ms. Kane coming in.

"This is punishment." Her sharp voice pierces my ears as my eyes twitch from the chalk dust.

What is this punishment for? Did she find out about the pantsing incident? If she did, how come Jack's not being punished? He was involved in it too. Then again, he in in Mr. Torquin's home room, though not in his French class, which I think around half his home room is in. Mr. Torquin will probably give him a different punishment, like 15 push-ups. I remember hearing a story about Mo Willems, who called someone fugly and had to do 30 push-ups because Mr. Torquin heard. I think that was last year, when we were in Grade 6 and Mo was in Grade 7.

"Marco, this is punishment for hanging out with Randall. I'm surprised he doesn't embarrass you because of his grandparents. You need to know that being with someone who has grandparents like that brings consequences."

What. I was expecting her to talk about how bad it is to pants someone. And why would she punish me for hanging out with Randall? He's pretty chill, and so are his granny and gramps.

I'm tempted to tell her to get lost, but that would mean I'd be in a lot of trouble.

"Randall, I feel like I'm going to hit someone every time I see you," Ms. Kane says, as I finish clapping the erasers and set them back. "You are not normal. I don't care if your excuse is that your parents died. Anyone who lives with their grandparents really is an idiot."

Whoa. She's harsh.

"And grandparents like yours, no less. Honestly, if I were principal, I would expel you right there on the spot because you will embarrass us."

Ok. That's it.

"Who do you think you are?!" I yell, folding my arms. "Randall's a nice person. Yes, he doesn't always think before he speaks, but still. You have no right to treat him like this."

"You are being sent to the principal's office," Ms. Kane says, pointing to the door. "Teachers are people you are supposed to respect. And you just acted extremely disrespectful."

I don't care if I'm trouble. This was worth it.

* * *

 **Jack**

I watch Cass smoke another cigarette as I lean back against the rails.

"Dude, 'sup with the cigs?" I ask, pointing to the box.

"Oh, that," Cass says, "some smoker on the street gave them to me. For six bucks."

"For cear?!" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yeah. It's flange." Cass looks away. "Though my teeth are yellow now and my breath stinks, which is bunk, but still. I like it."

"Can I have one?" I hold my hand out. Cass pulls a cigarette out of the box and puts it in my hand. He lights a match and hands it to me. I light my cigarette and take a puff out of it. It makes me feel like Dad, who's trying to quit smoking for some reason. Why would he quit? This stuff's fun.


	20. Chapter 20

**Aly**

 _July 1st, 1984_

"The plane will be taking off soon," Josh said. We were sitting next to each other on the plane. I was shivering from the cold rain on that early morning, so I'd brought a blanket on board with me to keep warm. For Josh, it wasn't the first time he'd been on a plane. For me, I was extremely nervous. What would happen if the plane crashed? Would I even survive?

"They're gonna take off in six minutes, Aly," Josh said. "They'll be done preparing to take off then. It's important to prepare to take off because if they don't, there's a higher chance the plane will crash."

"Okay," I said. My seatbelt was buckled, right underneath my blanket. In the cup holder, the Coke Daria brought me that morning was sitting untouched. I picked it up and took a sip. I thought over the morning, when I got an unexpected visitor.

* * *

 **Daria**

 _Earlier that day_

I hug Aly as tightly as possible before she goes through airport security. I've already given her Coke, so now I owe her some French fries and hamburger. The bag with them is still in my hand.

"I'm gonna miss you," I say, loosening my grip so I can get a look at Aly's face.

"I'm gonna miss you too," she says. "I wish you were coming."

I let go of her and look over my shoulder. Dad's standing there, with his arms crossed and a cigarette sticking out. He didn't want to bring me to the airport to say bye to Aly, especially with the weather, but I convinced him to bring me because I wouldn't be seeing Aly for two weeks, when we've been friends for a dick year.

"I'll see you later," I say, turning and waving.

"Later, as in two weeks," Aly jokes, waving back. Even though it really doesn't mean much, there's really far too much truth in it. I don't know how I can make it two weeks without Aly. Even if we didn't see each other face to face, we would phone each other. Yeah, I can still phone and write letters, but it's so hard.

How do you live without someone like her?

* * *

 **Aly**

 _Thousands of feet in the air_

Josh and I had been on the plane for half an hour, playing a game of Uno when a stewardess came, with cookies, pretzels, and drinks. Josh took a drink, a bag of pretzels and a cookie while I skipped the drink and took the cookies and pretzels.

"University wasn't really what I expected it to be," Josh said, shuffling the cards just after we took our food. "I'm not sure what I really expected in the first place. I guess a lot less homework. And no debt."

"Oh yeah?" I said.

"Damn skippy," Josh said, placing the cards back in the box. "For one, if there is one thing I learned from the people in one of my classes, you might end up having kids in your first or second year."

"C'mon," I said, trying not to giggle. "How the fuck can that happen? There's no way that can happen."

I remember Josh's face was completely serious. "It can happen, Alyssa," he snapped. "You can't predict the future."

That made me shut up. No one called me Alyssa unless they were serious.

Especially since looking back, Josh and I agree that he kind of predicted his future that moment.


	21. Chapter 21

**Cass**

 _July 5th, 1984_

"So you got 99% on the year end test, Cassius," Uncle Bernie said, pacing back and forth. Ever since Grade 7 had ended, he'd been reminding me before I ate breakfast, before lunch, before I did anything, really.

"It's not _that_ bad of a mark," I said. Ninety-nine percent was close to a hundred. Besides, I studied really hard for that test, like I did with all of my tests. I still remember drinking Coke and coffee to keep myself awake because I would be studying until two a.m. just to avoid failing. I'd be doing that until I graduated from university. Some days, I would be so stressed about failing a test that I'd forget to eat breakfast, or maybe even lunch. Some days, I'd spend so much time studying that I would go a full day without eating anything at all. Looking back, these things were not really good for my health. Neither was smoking.

"It's not 100%! And anything below 100% is failure!" he snapped, waving his hands. "Cassius, you failed the test. You are such a disappointment to this family. For that alone, you are grounded for the rest of the summer. And for shaming us nearly as badly as your mother did, you have to stay in your bedroom and do mathematics all day. From when you wake up to when you go to bed. And I will be checking to see if you are doing something." I remember Uncle Bernie leaning in close to me. "Teachers pamper you kids too much these days. They let you have recess! _Recess!_ And they don't spank you like they did before." Uncle Bernie leaned in even more closer to me. "There is going to be no break from studying for you, young man. I will not hesitate to take away your meals if it means that you will not be a disappointment to this family."

Even now, I wonder how Eloise and I made it through that summer without trying to tie our bedsheets and throw them out the window, then climb down and run to our friends' houses.

Then again, we were intimidated by Aunt Marie and Uncle Bernie.

* * *

I lit up the cigarette and took a puff into it.

It was around midnight, and I still felt dizzy from all the math I had to do. I'd only managed to get sleep for three hours before waking up with a severe headache and a case of dizziness. I was still feeling cranky from not having a break to chill, so I thought I'd just light up a cigarette..

I watched the smoke fly out of the cig. It felt as though my anger was the smoke itself, letting go. Smoking that one cigarette just seemed to set me free, and fill me with a sense of calm.

If only I knew there was a better way to deal with my life. Maybe then I wouldn't have gotten Jack, Marco, and Aly into smoking. And then from there, Aly wouldn't have gotten Daria and some other friends they made over the summer into smoking, along with Jack getting Randall to smoke. Marco didn't really influence anybody. Not that it changed the fact that he, as well as the rest of us, did something that wasn't good for us in general.

It had all started that one day in April.


	22. Chapter 22

**Marco**

 _July 15th, 1984_

"Mine!" I shout, bumping the volleyball, passing to Randall. Randall sets the ball to Jack, who spikes. I set the ball to Randall. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a girl with red hair and acid washed jeans and a pink polo shirt walk over. Her skin's kind of pale, which is weird, because her dad's part Arabic, so you'd expect her skin to be darker.

That makes her one of the only people I know who aren't a hundred percent white.

"Can I play?" Daria asks, kicking at the green grass with the toe of her boot. "Aly's on vacation, so I've got nothing to do."

"Aly?" I say, spiking the ball to Jack. "On vacation? She never goes on vacation. Neither do you."

"She's going to British Columbia for two weeks," Daria says. The ball flies toward her, and she bumps it to me. I set it to Randall. "Her brother goes to uni there. Mine also goes to uni, except in Edmonton."

"Really?" Jack asks, spiking. I reach in to bump. "You actually have a brother?"

"I also have two sisters," Daria says. "One's going to graduate from high school this year, and the other's in Grade 4."

"I have an older sister," I say.

"Jack and I don't have any brothers or sisters," Randall says, bumping. Daria glances at Rando.

"Is Sue still in love with you?" Daria asks. I set the ball to her, and she sets in back.

"With _me_?" Randall asks. His hands go to his chest, and he leans sideways a little.

"Yeah, you, you dirt bag."

"I don't know."

There's a moment of silence. "Me, Sue, and Aly used to be friends, but then Sue started having a crush on Randall at the end of Grade 6, and she would talk about him all the time. She wouldn't let us talk about anything else, so eventually we stopped hanging out with her."

I catch the ball in midair. All of us stare at Daria.

"Tell me about it," Randall says, putting his hands on his hips.

"Okay," Daria says, putting her hands on her hips. "But each of you have to tell me something about yourselves once I'm done."

* * *

 **Daria**

 _July 19th, 1983_

I take another lick of ice cream as Sue puts her lipstick on again. I can hear Aly sigh. Sue's always putting lipstick on. She's trying to impress Randall, even though he's a dick weed. Aly and I don't get what she sees in him.

"This ice cream sure does taste good," Aly says. She's holding a double chocolate chip ice cream cone in her hand. The ice cream drips down the edge of the cone as she takes a huge bite out of it. "Especially in the summer heat," she continues.

"Damn skippy," I say. Aly, Sue, and I just went to the creamery for ice cream. Sue's the only one who didn't because she's scared of getting fat.

"Randall won't like me if I'm fat like you guys are gonna be," she said. I almost threw my ice cream away, except it's too hot, and I really wanna cool down. Besides, it's not like I'm gonna be a blar from one ice cream. I'm starting to feel like a bunk for even thinking that.

It's around 19 degrees Celsius today. That's pretty cool for a Calgary summer day, if anyone knows how hot it can get during the summer. Calgary's like a desert. The desert gets hot during the day, and ridiculously cold during the night. Only with Calgary, it's the seasons. Unbearably hot during summer, really cold during winter.

"No one cares about the ice cream, Aly," Sue says, readjusting her sun hat. "All I want to talk about is Randall."

Aly and I sigh in perfect synchronization. We're both thinking the same thing: What does she see in him?

"I'm gonna throw a huge party to myself when Nico's gone," I say, biting off a huge chunk of ice cream. "There's gonna be no annoying older brother to bother me."

"I wanna talk about Randall," Sue says, just as Aly opens her mouth.

"Sue," Aly says, leaning over. "I'm sure there are other things to talk about besides Randall."

"Are you saying Randall's not important?" Sue asks. She stands up and crosses her arms.

"No!" I protest, throwing my hand up. "It's just that it's kind of annoying when all you talk about is Randall. There's lots of other stuff to talk about, like hot musicians. David Bowie, Wham, Dexys Midnight Runners, Billy Idol, Queen, so on."

"Isn't Randall the only hot guy out there?" Sue says, turning her gaze away.

I open my mouth to speak, but Aly beats me to it.

"Sue, just bag your face about Randall for once!"

"Then you're not my friends anymore. You think I'm bad for liking Randall."

Aly and I watch Sue walk away. I stand up to reason with her, except Aly pulls my arm down.

"Forget it," Aly says. "There's no point."

* * *

 **Jack**

 _Now_

"And that's when Aly became my only friend," Daria says. "It kind of hurt because we'd been friends since Grade 4, and Sue had been really nice to us back then."

"Darn," I say. "Did Sue really obsess over Randall that much?"

"Damn skippy," she says. Randall, Marco, and I look at each other, then we look at Daria.

"One of you guys has to tell me something about yourselves," Daria says. "If no one volunteers then I pick."

"I'll go," I say. I take a deep breath in as everyone turns to look at me.

"It was last June," I begin.

* * *

 _June 23rd, 1983_

"Boys," Mr. Delancey says, looking at all of us. "How many of you have had a crush, but got rejected?"

I raise my hand. Last week, I told Astrid Birgisson I liked her, and she rejected me for this bohunk guy named Anson.

"I see you're the only one," Mr. Delancey says, pointing to me. "I can see why this girl rejected you."

"Oooohhhh," the whole room goes.

* * *

 **Randall**

 _Now_

"The end," Jack said. "Who's next?"

"I'll tell the story of how I sprained my ankle in fifth grade," I said. "It was in November of that year..."

* * *

 _November 30, 1981_

"Marco!" I shouted, waving my hands. We were at the playground, right on the equipment. My eyes were shut close, because we were playing a game.

"Polo!" everyone else shouted. I could hear the footsteps on the ground.

"Marco!" I called out. I was walking backwards, and all of a sudden, I could feel my foot out in the air, and the rest of my body following, hitting a pole.

I had fallen down the fire pole.

I landed on the ground with both feet, but as soon as I landed, I felt a jolt of pain run through the left. I immediately collapsed as soon as I tried to stand up.

* * *

 **Marco**

 _Now_

"That's what happened," Randall says, "Do you remember that, Jack?"

"Damn skippy," Jack says. "That was Fuckn' A. Now it's Marco's turn."

I rub my chin as everyone turns to stare at me.

"I'll tell you the story of how I nearly got killed by my cousin," I say.

* * *

 _December 23rd, 1982_

"Here, son," Dad says, handing me a box. I rip it open. A pair of red boxing gloves is resting inside. I take them out and put them on. Nearby, my cousin Jules is testing his boxing gloves. Jules is fifteen. He's ace at boxing.

"Jules!" I say. "You wanna fight?" I hold up my arms to look macho. Jules' looks so much like a Clydesdale, you would think he's not even Canadian.

"Cheeuh," Jules says. He moves in front of the glass table, and I follow him. We begin boxing. At first, Jules isn't that hard on me, and I'm not that hard on him, but over the period of the next two hours, Jules punches harder and harder. I can already feel some bruises on my cheeks.

"Jules, cool out," I say. Now I'm starting to feel scared. How hard will Jules punch me this time?

"Bag your face!" Jules says, as he delivers the last punch. I can feel myself fall backward onto the glass table, with the sound broken glass following.

* * *

 _Now_

"I spent three days in the hospital," I say. "The stiches I got were painful." I rub the back of my neck, where some of the scars from the glass still remain.

"What happened to your cousin?" Daria asks.

"I don't remember what happened after too well," I say. I really don't. "All I do remember is that Jules wasn't allowed to come back to our house again."

"Dang," Daria says. "Harsh."

"Yeah," Randall and I say at once. "Harsh."


	23. Chapter 23

**Cass**

 _July 20th, 1984_

"Cass?" Eloise asked. She was standing in the doorway, the door slightly ajar. Normally, she wouldn't be allowed inside my room, but today, Aunt Marie and Uncle Bernie were at church, so Eloise and I were alone.

"Yes?" I said. My neck hurt from craning it over papers and papers of math. I was tempted to jump out the window at this point.

"I'm hungry." The door opened wider. "I want a sandwich," she said, rubbing her belly.

I could feel my own stomach growling. I hadn't eaten breakfast that day, so I was more than glad to take a break from all the math.

"I'll make you one," I said. I got out of my chair and went downstairs. I made two vegetable sandwiches with peppers, cheese, lettuce, tomato, cucumbers, and mayonnaise. I cut both in half and handed one plate to Eloise, who took it to the dining table and began wolfing down food. I too, ate like a madman once I sunk my teeth into the sandwich.

"What's it like having stinky breath?" Eloise asked, as soon as we finished our sandwiches and moved onto the drinks.

I almost spat out my food when she asked that. To be fair, she was nine, and nine-year-olds ask the darndest things. I remember once, Eloise asked me what it was like to pee in a urinal. She wouldn't say that now, but she asked me that once.

"I don't have stinky breath," I said.

"Then why do you have yellow teeth?" she asked. "If you have yellow teeth, then that means your breath's stinky and you don't brush your teeth. Why do you not brush your teeth?"

"Where did you learn that from?" I asked.

"My teacher said that."

Time for a change of topic.

"Wanna play I Spy?" I asked.

"Yes!" Eloise shouted. "I wanna go first!"

"Go," I said.

"I Spy with my little eye something that starts with an E."

"Eggs?"

"No."

"Exhaling people?"

"No. The answer is _Eloise,_ silly!"

Clever little kid, she was.

That was one of the few good things that happened that summer.

* * *

 **Aly**

I put the stamp on the envelope. There were five letters in the envelope: one for Daria, two for Mom and Dad each from me and Josh. I'd been in BC for about five days, and these were my first letters home. I kind of liked BC, even though it rained so much there. It wasn't the same without Mom, Dad, and Daria, but I had Josh.

"I put the stamp on," I said to Josh, handing him the envelope. He was combing his hair, and his face just smelled like it had been clean shaven, which it was. He hadn't put his shirt on yet, and his acid washed jeans were unbuttoned.

"Great," Josh said. "We'll take the car out and head to the mail, then we'll go on a gondola lift and get ice cream. We have to be back before six, because I've got a blind date at seven."

"A blind date?" I asked. "Does that mean you have a new gal pal who's blind?" I knew what a blind date was. It was just that I was joking.

Josh smiled. "No. I'm very sure you already know what I blind date is."

I smiled back. "Who set you up with her?"

"My friend Joey. She's his cousin. Her name's Ashley."

"Ashley."

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to meeting her. We'll be going to Tim Horton's."

What would Ashley be like? I remembered thinking that as we drove to the gondolas after the mail. I was nervous about going up very high into the mountains, but I was also looking forward to it.

As we sat down in the gondolas, I clutched my chair. What if the gondola broke off the string? What if we died?

I think Josh sensed my nervousness. "Don't worry," he said, taking my hand, "you won't die. You'll love it."

I remember the gondola taking off and us going up into the sky. I'd never been up that high ever since being in an airplane. The view was incredible. You could see the whole city of Vancouver from the window from the gondola.

"It's incredible," I said, looking at all the trees below on the mountains. "And kind of frightening."

"I told you you'd like it," Josh said, grinning.

"Yeah," I said, turning to him. "I do."


	24. Chapter 24

**Aly**

 _July 20th, 1984_

The doorbell rang. Josh finished buttoning his shirt and ran to the door with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He put on a black coat, like the one you might see on a businessman or something.

"She's here, Aly," he called out.

I got of the couch and went to the door as Josh opened it. In front of us was a girl with red hair so curly, it looked like she never combed it. Her skin was light, and a spray of freckles spread across her face. She had a huge smile, and bright blue eyes that put the sky to shame.

"Ashley," Josh began, clearing his throat. "I'm Josh Black. I believe we'll be going to Boston Pizza right now."

Josh held out his hand. Ashley took it, and glanced over my brother's shoulder to see me.

"Is that Alyssa?" she asked, her eyes widening a little.

"Yeah," Josh said, looking over his shoulder. "We call her Aly for short. Be safe, kid. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Ash and I will be back at eight. Be safe."

Ashley and Josh only knew each other for a few seconds, and he was already calling her Ash like he knew her for three years. I found it interesting how quickly Josh could give someone a nickname after meeting them. I still do.

* * *

 **Daria**

 _July 22nd, 1984_

I pound on Nico's door. It's noon, and as always, Nico sleeps in. Actually, he does that a lot. After he eats, he goes straight back to sleep...if you even call hardly eating a bite or two of food each meal eating. Even though it's summer and he's supposed to be hanging out with us and his friends, I feel like he's not ever there. He is there, except it's like he's dead and he's now a ghost.

Not that I can imagine Nico dead.

I sigh and open the door. Nico's snoring, and his blanket is on the floor, along with sugar and brown powder. Cocaine and heroin.

I keep thinking I should tell Dad about it, but I'm scared of what Nico might do to me if Dad knows. I haven't even talked to Nico about it since what, February or March?

I walk into the room and shake Nico. He stirs and groans, but his eyes aren't opening.

"Wake up!" I shout, shaking him again. This time, he sits up and rubs the grit out of his eyes, moaning. Even thought this is a habit now, it always scares me how skinny Nico is. Dad even says if someone were to compare me and Nico, I'd like I was overweight because he's so skinny. Not to mention I never see him wear short-sleeved shirts anymore. Even in summer, he wears full sleeved shirts. It's like he doesn't feel warm.

"It's noon!" I yell. "Get out of bed and go out for a walk! Eat something."

"Fine!" Nico snaps. "Just...wait."

He continues rubbing grit. I put my hands on my hips.

"It's like you're a ghost, Nico," I say, "You're always there, but never around."

What a poetic expression. I always liked poetry. That's something I really don't get about myself.

Nico looks up at me. "I sometimes feel like you'll be happier without me," he says.

What? Why would he think I'm happier without him?

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"We never get along. You always seem to want to fight."

"No I don't. Besides, I can't imagine a world without you."

"Even when I went to uni, you couldn't imagine a world without me."

"Yeah," I say. Wait, what? Come to think about it, even though he was hardly around when he was in uni, I really never thought what it would be like for him to never be around. I guess that's because there were visits from him and letters on the weekends.

But what if there were no letters? No visits? It would be like he was dead.

After a long silence, Nico says, "You'll be rid of me soon, Daria. Then you'll be very happy."

"What do you mean by you'll be rid of me soon?" I'm full on yelling now. Something feels wrong. I've had this feeling something was wrong since Christmas. The heroin and cocaine I found in his bedroom doesn't help. Neither does the fact that lately, he hates stuff he normally likes. Even back in October, he still liked reading, going out for walks, and sometimes even snowboarding. He also isn't eating a lot, and he sleeps so much. Now he's saying stuff like how I'll be happier without him. He's been saying that stuff for about three days. Something's not right.

"You'll see," he says, "now get out."

* * *

I stare at the plate of uneaten food Nico just left at the table. It's food from McDonald's: French fries, a burger, and Coke. I'm feeling hungry, so I take a fry and begin eating it. Not that it's going to matter if I do, because Nico only ate three fries. Literally. I don't know why he's eating so little.

The doorbell rings, and I run to it. I open the door and find Eddie, Nico's friend, standing there. Like most of Nico's friends, I don't really know Eddie that well. He and Nico were always at his house or outside.

"Can I see Nico?" Eddie asks, "I feel like I never see him."

"I never see him either," I say. "He hardly eats, and he's always sleeping." I look at Eddie. "You know Nico. Do you think something's wrong with him?"

"Naw. Don't think so."

I stop for a moment. If I let Eddie in, maybe Nico will start eating more and sleeping less.

"You can see Nico." I move away and let him come in. For a moment, I think of asking Eddie if he knows anything about Nico using heroin and cocaine, but I decide not to. It's not my problem.


	25. Chapter 25

**Daria**

 _July 22nd, 1984_

Nico and Eddie are sitting in the living room. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I hope Eddie can get Nico back to his old self soon. Maybe he'll even get him off those drugs.

"We're going to a party today. Wanna come? Anna won't be there," Eddie says, reaching across to pat Nico's shoulder.

"Good," Nico says. The way he says it makes me very uncomfortable.

"I know you're not over her yet. I can see why."

It's been months since Anna and Nico broke up. How long does it take to get over a breakup?

"I'm coming," Nico says, after what feels like hours. "But I won't be there for long. I'll probably be there for about half an hour or so."

"Your sister says she never sees you these days."

"She always says that. Now that I'm at home, I have nothing to do except sleep. I'm fucking bored and sick of it all. I need something to keep me busy."

There's a long silence. Finally, Eddie speaks.

"I sometimes wonder if something's wrong, Nic. You've been acting a little different ever since two weeks after Anna broke up with you. Then a month later, you get into those drugs. 'To deal with the loneliness from Anna and all the uni stress.'" Eddie makes quotation marks as he speaks.

I can't hear the rest of what Eddie's saying. He knows Nico's on drugs and he's not doing anything about it?

"-and now I never see you," Eddie finishes. "It's good that you're coming with us."

It bothers me how easily Eddie's able to convince Nico to go to a party while I'd be lucky if I can even get Nico out of bed.

* * *

 _Later that day_

"Nico's going to a party, Arwa," I say.

Arwa turns away from the phone and looks at me. She's waiting for a friend to call, so no one else is allowed to use the phone. She raises an eyebrow as she speaks.

"Who invited him?"

"Eddie."

"Eddie can convince Nico to come to a party but we can't even convince him to eat more food. How weird." Arwa turns back to the phone as Frada comes running from the bathroom.

"What's it like waiting for a friend to call you, Arwa?" Frada asks. Looks like she's going into another one of those question phases again.

"It's boring."

"What's it like feeling bored?"

"None of your business."

I decide I'm going to switch the topic.

"Nirvana's coming today," I say. Frada's eyes widen.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I hope we can play tic-tac-toe!" Frada shouts.

"Frada," Arwa says, turning toward her, "why don't you watch some TV?"

"Okay!" Frada shouts. She runs to the TV and turns it on, switching through channels until He-Man and the Masters of the Universe comes on. She just sits there, watching.

"I hate Nirvana, "Arwa says, looking at me. "Ever since Mom died, I feel like Dad wants to replace her. So does Nico." Arwa sighs, then continues.

Wait. Nico thinks Dad's trying to replace Mom? Then again, that brings back something from when Dad and Nirvana began dating.

"I don't know why you don't miss Mom. I can see why Frada doesn't because Mom died a few weeks after she was born but I don't get you. Why do you not miss her?"

Oh god. Not this conversation again.

"How can you miss someone when you don't remember them?" I ask.

"How do you not remember Mom?"

"I was three when she died. You don't remember much when you're three."

* * *

 _March 19th_

"I like Nirvana!" I shout, as soon as she and Dad leave the room. Nico looks up at me, an eyebrow raised. His graded essay is on the table, with _B+_ written in red with a circle.

"Why?" He sounds disgusted. "Nirvana's just a replacement for Mom."

"No she's not! She's really nice!"

"She doesn't seem nice to me. Most stepmothers are cruel."

"That's just in bunk fairy tales!" I shout. "That ain't real life."

"Shut the fuck up."

My mouth closes.

* * *

 **Jack**

 _July 24th, 1984_

Dad's voice comes on the other end of the phone. "We're going to Halifax in a week and a half, kid. Pack up."

"Okay," I say. "Anything else?"

"No. That's it."

I can see Mom coming in to the room, with a razor turned on in her hand. But that's not what bothers me.

It's her hair.

If I thought she was horrifying in December, it's nothing compared to now.

Part of her head's shaved, some areas deeper than others. There's a look in her eyes that reminds me of a serial killer. Her mouth is twisted in an even more scary position.

"Bye, Dad. I'll see you later."

"Bye son."

Trembling with horror, I hang the phone. I have to try three times in order to get it done.

"D-d-dad's t-t-taking m-me to H-h-halif-f-fa-a-x in a w-w-week and a-a-a h-h-half."

"Halifax," Mom says.

"Yes," I say slowly.

"It's a fairy tale, Jack. Halifax is not a real place."

Is this some kind of joke? Then again, Mom's been acting weirder and weirder lately.

"Halifax is real, Mom. It's in Canada."

"No, son," she says, moving closer. "You are too old to believe in fairy tales, with princes and princesses and knights and dragons."

"H-h-Halifax is not fake," I say slowly, but even then, I'm not feeling good. Something tells me I need to get out now. Something tells me Mom might actually believe what's she's saying is true.

"Um, Mom," I say, with my biggest smile. "I wanna go outside. May I go?"

"Yes. Outside is real. It's not full of fairy tales." As she speaks, she lifts the razor to her head and shaves more parts of her hair. "But you seem to want to go outside all the time. You never want to see me."

Of course I don't want to see her. Mom freaks me out.

"Outside is full of bad people who will make you hate your mother." Mom comes so close to me she grabs my wrist. "I want you to be here until every last bit of hair is gone. At least then you will realize how good your mother is to shave her head when no one will."

No. No no no no no. I have to get out here.

People wonder why I don't talk about life at home much. I even remember Ms. Kane once telling me that if I don't talk about life at home, then I'm not a real man, and I'm not worthy of being a student of the Prince Karai Institute.

"You have to wear a dunce hat and stand in front of the whole class," Ms. Kane said, pointing me to the front. I still remember her putting hat on my head, everyone's laughter and jeers, and the tears running down my face.

"You're not a man."

That may have been in Grade 6, but I remember it well. I'm not going to forget it. Ever.

Why does everyone else have better lives than me? Daria, Randall, Aly, Marco, and even Cass. It's not fair.


	26. Chapter 26

**Aly**

 _July 24th, 1984_

It was just a few days before I was going home when I first met one of the new friends me and Daria made over the years.

I was in the middle of a McDonald's when the cashier asked me which school I went to when she gave me my milkshake. Prince Karai Institute, I said. The girl standing behind me, a tall, lanky girl with a pinched face and small eyes, a slightly too full lip, and large ears told me she would also be coming to Prince Karai School. She was moving from Victoria to Calgary. Her name was Ellen McCrae.

"Why are you transferring?" I asked as Ellen took her order.

"My dad's taking a job in Calgary," Ellen replied coolly. "He's going to work at the National Post. He's a journalist. My mom's a teacher. She's going to teach at John G. Diefenbaker Middle School."

"Oh," I said. "My name's Aly Black. My mom's a counselor and my dad's a businessman at a corporation. My friend Daria lives nearby me. She's really nice. I can't wait for you to meet her."

"Daria? What name is that?"

"Her dad's part Turkish."

"Really?" Ellen's thin eyebrows arched. "I've never met anyone who's mixed. I have met some pureblood blacks, though."

"Tell me about it. Did they speak another language?"

Ellen and I moved out of the way so other people could order. "No. The only person I know who can speak another language is my dad. He knows German."

"Daria's learning French, and she already knows Arabic."

"I think we'll be great friends."

* * *

 **Marco**

 _July 26th, 1984_

"Your life must be better than mine," Jack says, kicking a rock. His hair's now about two inches long. He decided he didn't like the skater haircut anymore, so he cut it.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Your mom's normal. Your dad doesn't go on business trips a lot."

"My dad's a cop. Of course he doesn't go on business trips." I'm confused. What's Jack talking about?

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"Never mind," Jack says.

* * *

 **Cass**

 _July 29th, 1984_

Aunt Marie and Uncle Bernie were at church on this day. So was Eloise. I remember it well. It was just me, myself, and I, sitting alone at the table. Feeling low, I was, and with good reason. It was my birthday today, and my good old aunt and uncle refused to celebrate it as I'd 'be more spoiled than I already was.'

So I was just sitting there, feeling all miserable, when I noticed Randall was standing in my backyard, with a couple of Cokes in hand. I ran to the back door and let him in. Randall ran in, as fast as he could. Why'd he be coming here in this hot summer heat?

"'Sup?" Randall asked, sitting down on the table, opening his Coke as I opened mine.

"Nothing much. Just leave me alone."

"I came here to wish you happy birthday." Randall stood up, hands on the table.

"I feel very bad right now."

"Of course you do. The reason no one's here except me is because you're acting like a noob, feeling bad for yourself. If it weren't for me, Jack or Marco, you wouldn't have any friends. And with good reason."

I watched him go as I took a sip of Coke from my can. All I could do was feel even more miserable than I did before.

* * *

During these years, I would often lie about what really happened at my house because I didn't want to be seen as a noob. Even now, I sometimes lie about my childhood because I hate having to think about what really happened. I remember I always thought everyone else's lives were better than mine.

That really wasn't true.

Daria had an older brother into heroin. While he did bring coke into the house, he never actually used it because the tests performed on him after what happened proved it. Why he brought it in, we'll never know. Jack had to deal with a mostly absent dad and a mom who had some issues. Randall's life may have been better if it hadn't been for Ms. Kane. Whether or not she's still teaching, I don't know.

I hope not.


	27. Chapter 27

**Jack**

 _August 4th, 1984. Halifax_

I shield my eyes from the bright sun. The temperature today is 23 degrees Celsius, which is normal for Halifax in August. Dad and I are staying here for about three days.

In the distance, I can see Peggy's Cove. The lighthouse stands up tall, and the rocks at the shore are so smooth. It's because of how they eroded over the years.

"Don't you think this place is more preferable to Calgary?" Grandma asks, as she sets some chocolate biscuits in front of me. I take one and nibble on it. As always, Grandma's biscuits are hard, but deliciously good. You can't resist them.

"Calgary's so dry," she says. "The sun shines each day so brightly." She turns to look at me in the eye, her gray hair shining in the sun. "Besides, you're not with that narcissistic mother of yours."

"Narcissistic?" I ask.

"She thinks she's so great and better than anyone else. Thinks the world revolves around her." Grandma makes a tsk-tsk sound. "The only good thing about your daddy marrying her was that you came out of it."

I'm tempted to tell Grandma that Mom's not narcissistic and all, but I can't say that without thinking about what happened this morning.

* * *

 _Earlier that day_

I can smell smoke outside the house. I must be hallucinating.

I kick off my bed covers and run out of my bedroom, the stench of smoke and flames getting stronger. Out the window, I can see flames leaping up from the ground. A silhouette in the darkness outside shows. I can see the outline of a bald woman in a robe.

It's Mom.

I pour three jugs of water and run outside, dousing the fire. It starts to die down. In the ashes, I can see my Canadian of the Year collection, my AC/DC vinyls, my band t-shirts, and the photos of Brian Johnson I have. I can also see some charred school books.

"What are you doing, Mom?" I shout, using the second jug to erase the fire. The fire dies down more; it looks like a tiny flame. I thrust the third jug of water onto the fire. It goes out completely. But that doesn't change the fact that my vinyls, my shirt, and my Canadian of the Year collection are destroyed. Maybe not a hundred percent, but badly enough for them to be useless. My schoolbooks are only charred, which is a good thing, because I don't want to go out and buy more. Dad always kept spares ahead of time.

I spent so much money and time on that stuff. Dad helped me with the Canadian of the Year collection. He would be very upset as well.

"I'm burning this stuff. You love it more than your mother," Mom says. I open my mouth to speak, but she holds her hand up. "You're such a narcissist, son. You love to listen to music, and you spend more time on your school work than you did in Grade One. I don't care if you fail school. You can always go again. Your mother is more important than being an asshole teacher."

The way she says asshole, you would've though of a kid in kindergarten whining about not getting his toy.

And how did Mom know I want to be a teacher? I have to spend a lot of time on school because teachers are smart. I sometimes hate school, and I don't want to study, but I have to put in the effort so I become a teacher. Dad spent some money on math books for me to practice during the summer. He wants me to be a teacher as well.

I just stare down at the pile. That stuff meant so much to me. But at the same time, I feel guilty for thinking about how much that stuff meant. What if Mom's right? What if I am a narcissist who loves AC/DC more than her?

"I love you, Mom," I say. "I just wish you didn't burn a lot of my stuff to the point it became useless." Both of these things are true. I really do love Mom, and I wish she didn't burn my stuff.

God. Am I really a narcissist?

* * *

 _Now_

I look out the window again. I've been thinking of going to the public gardens today. I take another one of Grandma's biscuits and bite it.

"That's horrible, Jack," Grandma says.

"What?" I ask.

"What your mother did. Burning stuff you spent precious money on. Stuff your daddy helped you with. I can understand putting in extra time to study to become a teacher." Grandma shakes her head. "Marrying her was the biggest mistake he ever made. I tried to warn him out of it, but he was too deep in to listen." She looks at me with low eyes. "Only now he's learning. At least you're not as narcissistic as she is."

I look out the window. I'm thinking of asking Grandma to take me to the public gardens, but I'm scared.

What if she's wrong?

What if she thinks I'm narcissistic?


	28. Chapter 28

**Randall**

 _August 5th, 1984_

"You want some honey, Rando?" Gran asked, as we stood in the honey store. All around us, there was all this honey related stuff, everything from honey wine to books about honey, you name it. Gran, Gramps, and I were in Okotoks, at a honey factory. Gramps had driven us here because none of us really had much to do.

"I would like some honey ice cream," I said. The place we were in sold ice cream of any flavour with honey in it. "I'm thinking chocolate chip."

Gramps got me some chocolate chip flavoured ice cream and got some for himself and Gran. We got into the hot car with its heated seats, and, had a very stuffy car ride to the Big Rock. By the time we got there, I'd already finished my ice cream. The rock was in front of us, with a fence around it.

Gramps parked the car in the parking lot. I got out of it as soon as possible. Wind was blowing in my face, and the heat of the sun burned on my skin. My face was sweating as I ran on the stone ridden path to the big rock, with my grandparents struggling to keep up.

"If it weren't for my rheumatism," Gran called out, the wind distorting her voice, "I would've been running beside you, like I did with your dad when he was your age!"

As soon as I'd jumped over the fence, I ran through the weeds around the rock and up the boulders. I noticed a crack in one half of the rock, large enough for a person to fit through. I walked into the crack, taken aback by the cool air inside it, compared to the heat of the outdoors. I put my hand to the wall, which was even cooler than the air. Slowly, I walked through the crack, finding an exit to it on the other side.

In the corner, there was this opening, equally as wide as the opening of the crack. I climbed up the crack and slipped in. In the distance, I could hear the shouts of Gramps. I think he was wondering aloud where I was.

Inside this sub-crack, there was light at the top, the width of the tunnel being wide enough for me to climb to the top of the rock. I scaled up and poked my head out the opening. Out of the corner of my eye, through the heat of the sun and the gales, I could see Gramps on one side, and Gran on the other, a Polaroid in her hand.

"Stay up there!" she called out. "I want to take a picture."

I still have a copy of the photo, hanging up on my bedroom.

It has always been one of my favourite days.

* * *

 **Marco**

Kandyce takes a huge bite out of her hot dog, mustard drooling down her chin as I run to stand in line for the roller coaster.

My sister and I were driven to Calaway Park by our parents. Both my parents had a day off today. I turn to see my parents. Dad's putting his cigarette in the ash tray while Mom puffs out some air, even though it's summer. That means she's also been smoking.

"Don't hurt yourself, son!" Mom shouts, cupping her mouth. Mom's always so overprotective of me.

After fifteen minutes in the line, I finally get to go on the roller coaster. As it's going up, I feel a surge of excitement rush through me. I can't wait to come down. I can't-

Suddenly, the roller coaster goes down, and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.

"I'M GONNA DIE!" I'm clinging on very tightly to the handles on the cart. Every time it goes up, I think I'll be okay, but when it goes down, I'm convinced I'm going to die.

Finally, the ride on the roller coaster is over. I clutch my stomach and breathe deeply. I head down the ladder, panting with wild eyes. I nearly kiss the ground when I reach it, but that would make me look like a hunk, so I manage to remain sane and not do it.

I'm thinking of going on another ride, but when I reach the spot my parents are, Mom looks at me in the eye, and tells me that Kandyce got sick in the bathrooms, so we're going home...even though I only went on one ride.

On the way home, all I can think about is the fact that a perfectly good day just ended.

And I make sure to tell Mom how I feel. However, the umpteenth time I complain, Dad pulls over and stops the car. He turns to face me.

"Listen young man!" Dad shouts. "You had one ride at the place. Be happy you got that one. If I hear you complain one more time, you're not going there again. Understood?"

"Yes," I say quietly, my throat tightening. I don't say anything for the rest of the day.


	29. Chapter 29

**Marco**

 _August 6th, 1984_

Daria and I are looking over the river on a pedestrian bridge covered with flowers of every kind. I just came here. I wanted to go out for a walk.

Instead, I found Daria.

I hear the sound of breathing, and I turn to my left. A gush of wind blows in my face, obscuring it with hair. I can still see Randall in front of me. That's two people I didn't expect to see today.

I turn back to Daria, who's looking me in the eye, her mouth open, but then she shuts it.

"Whacha doing?" I ask.

"Nothing," she says. "I'm bored. Do you wanna have a roast battle?"

"Okay," I say, shrugging. I turn to Randall.

"I'm in," he says, before I even ask.

"Can you find any brains?" I ask Daria. Quickly, she responds.

"Not in your head."

"Oh, boy." Randall and I look at each other. "I already give up," Randall says.

"Let's do something else, then," Daria says. "Tell me about you grandparents, Randall. I've always wondered what it's like to live with your grandparents instead of your parents."

"It's embarrassing," Randall says, "normal grandparents don't act the way mine do. They don't wear mohawks and hair mousse. They don't dress up weird."

Embarrassing, my ass. I would like to have cool grandparents.

"I don't see what's so bad about them," I say. "They're really chill, bro."

"What are they like?" Daria asks. Strands of red hair blow out in the wind. The hair mesh isn't really helping much.

"What did I tell you?" Randall snaps. "Embarrassing." His teeth are grinding themselves together.

"Whatever," Daria says. "I'll see you guys later." We both watch Daria walk away.

For some reason, all I can think of Ms. Kane. _I'd be embarrassed to have such grandparents._

Is that what's bugging Randall?

* * *

 **Jack**

I open the door as soon as I hear the doorbell ring. I spend most days cooped up in the house, and I hardly see Dad. I can't really remember the last time I saw him after Christmas that didn't involve plans to go to Halifax.

Standing in front of me is a woman with red hair, though at the roots, I can see brown hair. She has my dad's eyes and tanned skin; she's very petite as well. In fact, she's barely my height.

It's Aunt Sherrie.

"Hi," I say. "Grandma's not home." That's true. Grandma went out for a drive outside of Halifax with Dad. She goes on these drives every time me and Dad come here. Last vacation, they stayed overnight. They did that other vacations as well. If they are, then Aunt Sherrie comes over.

"I know that, kid." Aunt Sherrie steps in and closes the door.

"Grandma says my mom's a narcissist," I say suddenly. Why am I talking about this? As soon as I utter those words, I tell Aunt Sherrie about how Mom burned my stuff in the backyard. I also tell her about how I hardly see Dad.

"I'm not surprised, considering this is your mother," she says, "but I'm also not surprised your dad's not around. He's really not that much better than your mother, you know."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I can see you're in denial about it. You're not even considering the fact that a man with his job shouldn't have so many "business trips." Aunt Sherrie puts quotation marks up to prove her point. "If you told him about your mother burning your belongings, then just watch how he reacts."

This is why I don't want to tell him. I'm scared of his reaction.

What if he says he doesn't want to talk to me anymore?


End file.
